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Cibi  aru  of... 

WILLIAM  H.  HUDSON 


«o.  y  .y.  ct 


m*t* 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


<-  /  / 


<y  >--*- 


^x  J^y 

sjy~~?^2<z-~**~-*--?r    o<^    ^/ 

^' 


THE    SENTIMENTAL    VIKINGS 


The 

Sentimental    Vikings 


BY 

R.  V.  RISLEY 


JOHN     LANE 

THE     BODLEY     HEAD 

NEW    YORK    AND    LONDON 

1897 


;f 
J?  *f  *l 


Co 


.  c. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  SWEEPING  OF  THE  HALL    .  i 

AN  INCIDENT    .         .         ....  .       37 

WHERE  THE  WOLVES  DANCE      .         .  .61 

THE  SACRILEGE         .         .         .                  .  .99 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  OAR-CAPTAIN     .         .  .     115 

THE  LAST  VOYAGE  .         .         .         .         .  -145 


THE  SWEEPING  OF    THE    HALL 

AN   OLD   DANISH   TRAGEDY 


THE     SWEEPING     OF 
THE     HALL 

AND  now  this  is  the  story  of  Witlaf  the 
harper,  that  he  told  in  the  great  hall  of 
Gorm,  the  king  of  all  Denmark,  ten 
centuries  ago,  waving  his  handless  arms 
in  the  flickering  glow  of  the  firelight. 

I  tell  the  tale  of  Snore,  the  lord  of 
the  north  of  the  island  of  Zeeland,  years 
ago ;  and  of  how  he  swept  his  hall  as 
the  day  broke. 

First,  as  to  his  birth.  Men  say  that  the 
heavens  were  darkened,  and  that  tumult 
uous  clouds  swept  low  over  the  battle 
ments,  and  that  voices  were  heard, 
meaningless,  in  the  air.  I  do  not  know 
— wonders  are  kind  to  great  names  when 
they  have  been  memories  a  little  time. 

But  this  much  is  true,  that  we  in  the 
hall  of  the  castle  were  told  by  a  white- 
faced  woman,  just  as  the  sun  set  —  I  re 
member  how  red  its  light  fell  on  the 
rush-covered  floor,  and  how  the  woman 

3 


4     The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall 

leaned  half  through  the  door  and  told 
us,  holding  the  curtain  —  that  the  child 
was  born,  and  was  strong,  and  a  man; 
but  that  the  mother  was  dead,  and  that 
the  Lord  Sigmund  was  with  her. 

That  night  in  the  hall,  by  the  light  of 
the  fire,  as  we  men  were  talking  in 
whispers,  and  telling  kind  deeds  of  our 
lady  (for  she  was  ever  about  in  the 
cottages,  and  she  and  her  women  made 
soft-sewed  clothes  for  all  the  men  of  the 
ship-crew),  came,  from  behind  the  curtain 
that  is  to  my  lady's  chambers,  a  long, 
low  wail  of  a  child,  strong  and  insistent, 
and  then  a  man's  tread  for  a  few  paces, 
and  then  silence  again,  save  for  the 
men's  whisperings  and  the  sound  of  the 
squeaking  of  their  leather-belts  as  they 
moved,  and  the  gentle  rubbing  of  the 
wooden  shields  on  the  walls  as  the  wind 
blew  through  under  the  rafters. 

And  afterwards,  when  the  fire  burned 
low,  the  men  departed  for  their  beds 
and  left  the  hall  empty,  and  then  I  also 
went,  because  I  did  not  like  the  shadows, 
but  to  the  battlements,  not  to  my  sleep, 
for  I  felt  that  this  night  meant  some- 


The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall    5 

thing,  and  I  was  not  yet  enough  settled 
in  my  mind  to  lie  and  think  in  the  dark 
ness.  So,  lonesomely,  I  paced  the  battle 
ments,  while  the  moon  rose,  and  all 
around  me  lay  the  great  forest  reaching 
almost  down  to  the  edge  of  the  moat, 
and  throwing  its  shadows  over  the  silver 
water  and  on  the  white  walls  of  the 
house.  And  in  the  distance,  the  long, 
still,  snake  of  the  fjord  stretched  out 
under  the  moon,  till  it  curved  and  a 
black  point  of  trees  cut  it  off  suddenly. 
And  at  last,  when  the  woods  had  be 
come  dusky,  and  the  distant  water  where 
it  passed  out  of  sight  was  grey  instead 
of  silver,  and  then  slowly  turned  to  pink, 
I  went  down  the  steep  stairs,  through 
the  yet  dark  galleries,  where  the  carving 
on  the  corners  was  worn  so  smooth  and 
stained  with  smoke — down  to  the  chill, 
dark  hall,  and,  kneeling  on  the  hearth, 
built  up  and  lit  a  fire  of  good  beech 
twigs  among  the  ashes,  while  the  first 
day  of  the  life  of  Lord  Snore,  who  swept 
this  same  hall  of  his  at  another  dawn 
ing,  broke  through  the  long  windows  and 
shone  on  the  armour. 


6     The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall 

There  are  truer  ways  of  reckoning  time, 
O  king,  than  by  the  indifferent  passage 
of  the  meaningless  years.  Some  moments, 
of  the  flying  of  a  thought  in  length,  fill 
more  space  in  our  lives  and  memories 
than  much  of  everydays. 

Yet  something  remains  to  me  of  those 
light-footed  years  till  I  see  again  clearly. 
Thus,  I  remember  Lord  Sigmund,  my 
Lord  Snore's  father,  set  forth  that  year 
after  the  grain-planting  was  over,  and  un 
til  it  was  tall,  he  sailed  the  high  seas,  and 
brought  back  white  furs  from  the  North, 
and  stories  of  mountains  and  ice-floors. 

Next,  I  remember  a  strange  ship  come 
rowing  one  day  up  the  fjord,  and  of  her 
landing,  and  the  men  coming  up  to  the 
hall,  where  they  stayed  many  days;  and 
of  how  they  ran  in  the  fields,  shouting, 
and  throwing  the  grass  at  each  other; 
for  they  were  sea-weary. 

Then  they  departed,  and  there  passed 
some  more  seasons  and  harvests,  with 
sometimes  hunting  of  bears  or  of  deer, 
and  the  hewing  of  pieces  of  woodland. 

Thus  the  years  trod  by  softly  while 
the  Lord  Snore  grew  to  his  manhood. 


The  Siveepiny  of  the  Hall    i 

And  Lord  Sigmund  would  sail  away 
with  his  men  every  spring  when  the 
planting  was  over,  and  my  young  lord 
would  sit  in  his  place  in  the  hall,  and, 
when  need  was,  give  justice  unto  the 
townsfolk.  Good  years,  O  king,  when  the 
fields  grew  wide,  and  the  board  was 
filled  for  a  hundred  men  who  sat  there 
every  evening. 

When,  looking  back  from  where  I  now 
sit — I  hope  near  the  end  of  my  life — I 
see  again  clearly,  it  is  the  time  of  mid 
summer  in  the  meadows  that  stretch  by 
the  side  of  the  fjord,  where  the  woods 
fall  back,  an  hour's  boat -row  from  the 
castle.  There,  just  when  the  still  noon 
day  drew  to  its  close,  and  the  slanting 
sun  was  beginning  to  throw  its  afternoon 
brightness  in  our  brown  faces,  my  Lord 
Snore  and  I  lay  stretched  out  in  the 
long,  sweet  grass,  he  with  a  heavy  cross 
bow — a  new  weapon  then — and  the  car 
casses  of  two  brown  deer  lying  beside 
him,  I  idly  talking  and  ever  looking 
forth  over  the  blinding  waters  for  sight 
of  his  father's  ship  that  we  might  begin 
to  expect  now,  the  grain  being  tall. 


8     The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall 

Suddenly,  from  behind  a  point  of  jut 
ting  woods  round  which  the  fjord  ran 
curving,  grew  and  took  shape  a  some 
thing  long  that  the  sun  shining  on  made 
painful  for  the  eyes — a  long,  low  some 
thing  that,  curving  in  again,  glided  be 
tween  me  and  the  dark  green  point  of 
trees.  It  was  the  ship!  The  young  lord 
sat  up  on  the  grass,  and  putting  his  hand 
on  the  carcasses  of  the  deer,  rose  to  his 
feet.  "It  moves  too  slowly,"  he  said.  It 
was  true.  Now  we  could  see  the  swing 
of  the  oars,  and  the  pause  between  the 
strokes  was  very  long. 

"Look  at  the  dragon,"  he  said  again, 
shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand.  I  saw 
now  that  the  great  beak  that  had  used 
to  be  so  fierce  in  its  red -and -gold  paint 
ing  was  broken  off,  so  that  only  its 
curving  neck  rose  from  the  bow.  And, 
looking  again,  I  saw  that  the  sides  of  the 
ship  were  battered,  as  if  by  rocks,  and 
that  many  of  the  oar-blades  were  broken 
and  tied  to  their  stems  with  ropes.  I  ran 
to  our  boat  that  lay  against  the  side-of- 
grass,  and  hurriedly  tumbled  its  stone 
anchor  on  board. 


The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall    9 

"He  must  have  sunk  the  other  ship 
or  he  would  have  come  home  in  her,"  I 
said,  shipping  the  steering-oar. 

Lord  Snore  raised  himself  from  the 
bottom  of  the  boat  where  he  had  been 
stooping  to  place  the  two  deer,  and 
turning  his  shaggy  head,  looked  at  me 
curiously.  "I  will  sit  in  my  own  right 
now!"  he  answered. 

Beneath  the  lord's  long  strong  strokes 
the  sharp-prowed  skiff  went  rapidly  over 
the  still  water,  and  now  we  could  see  the 
broken  dragon's-neck  and  the  rents  in  the 
shields  hung  over  the  sides  more  plainly. 
We  were  almost  within  the  shadow  of 
her  mast  when  a  tall  man — I  knew  his 
face  for  that  of  Esbiern  the  oar-captain — 
with  a  great  red  cloth  round  his  head, 
leaped  on  the  bow,  waving  his  long  arms 
wildly  and  shouting  to  us  over  the  sunny 
waters,  wild  words  of  some  sea-fight. 

Our  prow  cut  the  shadow;  half -unwill 
ing  hands  reached  over  the  gunwale  to 
grasp  our  boat;  we  clambered  over  the 
side  and  turning,  we  looked  along  the 
length  of  the  battered  ship,  over  the  half- 
empty  rowers'  benches,  past  the  pale  faces 


10   The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall 

of  five  or  six  men  with  linen  -  swathed 
heads  and  arms — on,  over  the  confusion 
and  wreckage  that  littered  the  centre  of 
the  ship,  to  where,  leaning  against  the 
edge  of  the  fore-deck,  lay  the  body  of 
Sigmund  the  lord  with  the  half  of  the 
crew  of  his  returned  ship  arranged  in  a 
long  sitting  row  beside  him. 

So,  with  Lord  Snore  at  one  of  the  big 
oars  to  help  the  weary  men  with  one 
more  rower,  and  I  heaving  on  the  great 
steering  blade  and  guiding  the  ship 
slowly  over  the  shallows,  we  went  silently 
up  the  fjord  through  the  afternoon. 

That  night,  when  the  men  and  the 
household  were  done  eating  and  only 
the  horns  and  wooden  tankards  of  beer 
stood  along  the  board,  my  Lord  Snore 
spoke  from  the  great  seat  where  he  sat 
moodily,  with  his  fist  on  the  table,  and 
the  chair-cushions  thrown  on  the  floor 
beside  him;  and  thus  he  spoke,  with  the 
men  leaning  silently  forward  to  hear  him  : 

"The  men  of  the  ship  have  told  ye  of 
the  fight;  how  in  the  south,  off  Lolland, 
they  met  a  Viking-ship  which  attacked 
them.  How  they  fought  and  drove 


The  Siveepiny  of  the  Hall  n 

the  Viking ;  how  that  the  Viking  led 
them  along  the  coast  till,  our  men 
weary  with  rowing,  there  came  two 
fresh  ships  from  a  bay,  hidden,  friends 
of  the  Viking;  and  how  that  Lord  Sig- 
mund  died  in  the  fight,  and  how  that 
our  men  fled  north,  while  the  Vikings 
shouted;  and  our  ship  ye  have  seen! 

"On  the  sixth  day  after  this,  at  the 
sun-rise,  let  the  ship  be  ready  with  new 
oars;  the  ship's  men  will  stay  here  to 
rest.  I  shall  take  the  men  that  I  call 
my  guard;  those  who  hunt  bears  with  me 
in  the  forest.  But  let  the  dragon's-neck 
remain  broken." 

This  he  said,  and  the  men  were  silent, 
the  old  ship's  crew  sitting,  looking  de 
jectedly  along  the  board,  their  ale  un- 
drunk,  and  shuffling  their  feet  in  the 
rushes.  Then  there  was  drinking  one  to 
another  while  the  women  took  down 
the  men's  axes  and  armour  -  coats  from 
the  walls  and  carried  them  off  to  their 
houses  to  clean  them;  and  there  was 
laughter  and  boasting  and  talking  loud 
making  up  courage,  and  some  got  up 
from  their  places  and  went  seriously  out 


12    The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall 

of  the  hall  to  the  houses  and  to  their 
children,  and  some  talked  to  the  men  of 
the  ship's  crew. 

Thus  the  evening  passed,  and  the  men 
went  home  to  their  beds  early,  save  for 
a  few  who  sat  down  with  made-up  in 
difference  and  talked,  while  their  beer- 
mugs  stood  on  the  benches  till  they 
grew  warm  in  the  firelight. 

So  the  next  six  days  we  worked  and 
made  ready,  hewing  and  smoothing  new 
oars,  and  whetting  our  knives  on  the 
grind-stone;  and  at  sun-rise  on  the  sixth 
day,  with  a  long  crowd  of  men  and 
women  on  the  strand  and  the  rain  pour 
ing  down  out  of  the  misty  brown  sky,  we 
hauled  our  ship  down  the  beach  and 
setting  ourselves  in  our  places  rowed 
splashingly  away  from  the  castle ;  while 
the  fine  rain  ran  down  our  faces  and  the 
shouting  grew  faint  in  the  distance. 

And  so  passes  that  part  of  my  tale  and 
I  take  up  the  second. 

Now  there  come  two  months,  O  king, 
that  are  as  difficult  to  see  clearly  as  the 
length  of  a  flame  in  the  sunshine. 


The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall  13 

We  sailed  south  to  Lolland,  but  we 
could  find  no  word  of  a  large  ship  with  a 
plain  prow  and  a  new  crew. 

And  we  landed  on  many  shores,  and 
much  I  learned  of  the  art  of  minstrelsy. 

And  Lord  Snore  managed  his  men  well 
and  was  a  kind  lord  over  us,  though 
fierce,  and  long  of  anger. 

We  sailed,  passing  along  the  coast,  some 
times  running  so  near  that  the  coolness 
of  the  trees  was  grateful  to  the  sun 
burned  men  —  where  we  could  see  the 
bottom  over  the  side  of  the  ship,  as  we 
glided,  stilly,  over  the  white  stones  that 
glimmered  through  the  clear  water. 

And  sometimes  we  would  pass  by  grey 
castles  with  small  villages  and  houses  over 
the  fields,  where  the  people  would  come 
out  and  look  at  the  ship,  and  when  they 
saw  the  broken  dragon  and  that  it  was 
a  ship  for  fight,  run  in  again,  or  hurry 
towards  the  castle  from  the  fields.  Then 
we  would  call  out  to  them  to  go  back 
to  their  oxen,  or  to  go  on  with  their 
thatching,  and  wish  good  marriages  unto 
the  maidens,  and  laugh  at  them  while 
they  stood  staring. 


14    The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall 

And  we  would  land  sometimes  and  hunt 
in  the  forests;  and  then  we  would  cook 
our  meat  all  through  over  great  fires,  and 
not  eat  it  half -fresh  as  on  shipboard. 

Once  we  chased  a  great  ship  and  came 
up  with  her,  but  on  calling  out,  we  found 
they  were  Northmen;  and  the  ship  that 
we  wanted  was  of  our  own  race.  So  we 
gave  them  some  rope  in  exchange  for 
some  leather,  and  drank  "skaal"  to  them 
over  the  bulwarks  as  they  spread  their 
brown  sail  going  northwards. 

Sometimes  we  landed  at  some  lord's 
castle,  sending  a  man  before  that  they 
might  know  us  as  friends.  And  here  were 
we  entertained  for  many  days,  and  were 
well  liked,  both  on  account  of  the  kind 
ness  and  manhood  of  my  Lord  Snore  and 
on  account  of  the  sturdiness  of  the  ship's 
men,  and  on  account  of  the  quest  we 
were  on. 

Sailing  thus,  O  king,  come  I  to  that  part 
of  my  tale  when  the  ladies  smile,  and 
when  the  lords  in  the  hall  look  away 
and  seem  not  to  listen — yet  would  I  be 
prompted  if  I  forgot  it. 

Now,  my  Lord  Snore  was  a  fierce  man 


The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall  15 

of  manner  and  face,  being  very  large, 
with  his  shaggy  head  held  high  on  great 
shoulders — a  man  more  for  fighting  and 
combat  than  for  young  women's  eyes — 
and  old  ones'  tongues. 

Yet  like  some  ugly  men  he  seemed  the 
manlier  by  his  ugliness. 

We  sat  in  the  hall  of  Lord  Rudolf  of 
Lolland,  anxiously  waiting  the  coming  of 
the  ship  of  his  brother,  gone  Viking — 
hoping  for  word  of  the  ship  we  had 
searched  for.  And  Lord  Snore  hunted 
and  rode  with  Lord  Rudolf  every  day,  till 
it  came  to  the  evening  that  he  had  set 
for  departure. 

And,  drinking  health  to  the  lord,  as  he 
raised  his  great  mug  to  his  lips,  I  saw  his 
eyes  glance  over  the  edge,  and  they  met 
the  eyes  of  Lord  Rudolfs  fair  daughter. 
And  I  saw  a  slight  surprise  come  into 
his  face;  it  grew  into  amazement;  and  he 
drank  the  cup  slowly  still  looking  at  her. 

We  stayed  many  days  at  Lord  Rudolfs. 

It  was  when  the  men  were  growing 
weary  of  waiting  and  the  household  that 
eat  in  the  hall  knew  all  of  my  songs — 
when  the  keel  of  the  ship  was  fast 


16    The  Siveeping  of  the  Hall 

grounded — that  one  night  as  I  lay  asleep 
with  my  back  to  the  bulwark  I  felt  a 
hand  shaking  my  shoulder.  And,  as  I 
grasped  his  arm  in  the  darkness,  Lord 
Snore's  voice  came  to  me  whispering: 

"  Awake ;  and  come  out  of  the  ship, 
silently — here  in  the  darkness,"  he  whis 
pered,  as  I  came  over  the  side  and  let 
myself  drop  by  my  arms  to  the  sand. 

I  saw  that  he  was  dressed  in  his  armour, 
and  had  his  great  axe  in  his  hand,  as 
he  pulled  me  into  the  shadow  of  the 
steering-oar,  where  it  stuck  over  the  stern, 
its  blade  of  broad  silver  where  it  shone  to 
the  moon-light. 

"Do  you  hear  the  noise  up  at  the 
castle?"  he  whispered. 

"It  is  surely  Lord  Rudolfs  brother  re 
turned,"  I  answered  when  I  had  listened; 
for  a  sound  like  the  grounding  of  swords 
and  the  tramping  of  men  passing  in  and 
out  over  the  drawbridge  came  to  me,  faint 
ly,  from  where  lay  the  castle  beyond  the 
black  line  of  trees:  the  night  was  very  still. 

"Nay,  it  is  not  that,"  whispered  Lord 
Snore,  looming  up  dim  by  the  ship's  side. 
"Listen,  Witlaf:  I  love  Lord  Rudolfs 


The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall  \i 

daughter — ah!  so  thou  knowest? — and  this 
night  have  I  gone  up  to  look  at  her  win 
dow  where  the  light  is — nay,  listen— and 
as  I  was  standing  there  dreaming,  I  think, 
sudden  and  soft  her  voice  came  to  me 
out  of  the  darkness,  from  just  within  the 
great  window  that  is  at  the  side  of  the 
hall,  and  looking  up,  I  heard  her  call  to 
me  gently,  saying,  'Snore,  Snore;  come 
here  to  the  window-ledge,  silently — quick! 
Back  to  your  ship,  Snore  —  my  father  is 
arming  himself  in  his  chamber;  I  heard 
the  clang  of  his  armour:  he  is  angry  be 
cause  that  I — love  thee.  The  castle  is 
filled  with  his  men,  and — I  love  thee!'" 

And  the  lord's  great  hand  was  raised 
in  the  darkness. 

"Now,  Witlaf,"  he  whispered,  and  I 
heard  his  voice  tremble,  "the  maiden  is 
safe  in  the  ship;  but  thou  knowest,"  and 
his  voice  grew  firm,  "that  the  half  of  our 
men  lie  drunk  on  the  fore-deck — and  'tis 
hard  to  move  ship  with  so  few.  Say,  Min 
strel,  wilt  thou  hold  the  ship  while  I,  with 
the  rest,  warm  my  hands  at  the  castle?" 

And  thus  it  was  that  I,  the  harper  of 
Lord  Snore,  came  to  be  sitting  in  the 
B 


18    The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall 

moonlight  inside  the  ship,  with  my  harp 
by  my  knee,  and  my  axe  in  my  hand, 
and  a  pale-faced  maiden  beside  me  who 
listened  in  silence  to  the  distancing  tread 
of  my  lord  and  his  men  as  they  stealthily 
passed  up  the  path  towards  the  castle. 

So,  seemingly  for  years  and  years,  we  sat 
there,  with  the  water  lapping  against  the 
side  of  the  ship,  and  the  sound  of  the 
straining  of  leather  and  the  shuffling  of 
feet  as  the  men  sleepily  put  on  their  arms 
on  the  fore-deck.  Then,  more  years  passed, 
and  the  maiden  shivered  and  crept  closer, 
and  I  put  my  great  skin-cloak  around  her. 

So  we  sat  and  waited ;  and  the  moon 
sailed  grandly  overhead  throwing  flakes 
of  white  on  the  dancing  water  to  sea 
ward;  and  save  for  the  lapping  of  water 
and  occasional  sounds  from  the  fore-deck, 
there  was  stillness — out  of  which  an  owl 
cried,  thrice,  with  its  long,  strange,  mourn 
ful  note,  and  then  ceased;  leaving  the 
silence  more  silent. 

Then,  suddenly,  from  out  the  darkness, 
seemingly  miles  away,  there  rose,  and 
rose,  and  hung  on  the  air,  and  slowly  died 
away,  a  great  cry  in  a  man's  voice.  Then 


The  Siveepiny  of  the  Hall  19 

there  was  silence  once  more  for  a  moment. 
And  now  began  a  confused  dull  rabble 
of  sound  that  I  knew  well  enough;  with 
a  skin-moving  swish  in  it  like  the  whet 
ting  of  knives.  And  there  were  far  sounds 
of  voices,  and  sometimes  a  curious  hol 
low  drubbing,  like  a  hammer  on  the  side 
of  a  ship ;  this,  I  could  tell,  was  the  sound 
of  my  Lord  Snore's  great  axe  as  it  beat 
on  the  door,  and  when  it  ceased  presently 
I  knew  that  the  door  was  down. 

Now,  for  a  long  time  only  the  far  sounds 
and  the  occasional  voices  came  to  us;  and 
the  years  grew  long  again,  and  I  heard 
the  water  lapping  against  the  side  of  the 
ship. 

Suddenly,  out  of  the  darkness  and 
into  the  strip  of  moonlit  beach  that  lay 
between  the  edge  of  the  black  forest 
and  the  silvery  ship,  came  running  a  man, 
silently,  and  swaying  as  he  ran,  and  just 
mid-way  in  the  moonlight,  he  stopped,  ran 
round  uncertainly  twice  in  a  little  circle, 
and  then  pitched  forward  with  his  face 
in  the  sand  and  lay  still.  The  maiden  by 
me  gave  a  little  cry  and  hid  her  face  on 
the  edge  of  the  bulwark.  Then  we  waited 


20    The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall 

again  and  listened  to  the  barking  of  dogs 
in  the  distance;  and  so  more  years  passed, 
and  the  lapping  of  the  water  grew  loud 
again. 

Now  began  to  come  wounded  men  in 
pairs,  stumbling  groaningly  over  the  side, 
and  soon  with  these  began  to  come  back 
other  men  out  of  the  darkness,  unwounded, 
but  bloody  enough,  and  these  waited  in  a 
little  crowd  outside  the  ship  panting,  and 
wiping  the  sweat  from  their  foreheads, 
and  leaving  the  prints  of  their  hands  on 
the  planks  where  we  found  them  next 
morning.  And,  last,  with  a  little  knot  of 
unwounded  men  around  him,  came  Lord 
Snore  walking  heavily,  swinging  his  axe, 
with  the  blood  dripping  from  his  shaggy 
foretop  and  from  the  ends  of  his  hands. 
He  stood  while  the  men  slowly  shoved 
off  the  ship,  then  plunging  through  the 
water  like  horses  and  splashing  it  over 
their  red  armour  and  faces,  they  all  came 
clambering  aboard,  and  throwing  off  their 
steel  hoods  and  sword-belts,  sat  them  down 
to  the  oars  to  get  the  ship  out  of  shoal 
water.  But  my  Lord  Snore  came  to  the 
gunwale,  and  taking  the  maiden's  hand 


The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall  21 

drew  her  to  him,  wrapped  in  the  great 
wolf-skin,  and  lowered  his  head  on  her 
shoulder. 

Thus  we  left  that  shore ;  and  when  far 
out,  we  saw  first  a  flicker  and  then  a 
glow  of  fire,  and  the  burning  of  Lord 
Rudolfs  castle  lit  up  the  sea,  and  we 
heard  the  cocks  crowing  over  the  water 
as  we  turned  our  prow  homeward,  while 
the  oar-blades  rose  and  fell,  dripping  silver. 

Now,  as  we  sailed  homeward  the  maiden 
was  given  the  after-part  of  the  ship,  save 
for  the  steersman,  and  because,  that,  lov 
ing  Lord  Snore,  she  was  afraid  of  him; 
yet  ever  looking  towards  the  forward  part 
of  the  ship  where  he  sat  with  his  men : 
thus  she  would  have  me  come  and  harp 
to  her  and  tell  her  sagas  and  tales;  and 
she  told  me  many  things  in  return. 

And  then  Lord  Snore  would  come  to  the 
edge  of  the  raised  deck  and  leaning  upon  it, 
talk  to  her,  while  my  harp  made  low  music. 

In  the  years  that  have  passed,  O  king, 
a  mist  like  the  autumn  mist  that  lies  white 
on  the  earth  in  the  morning  has  grown 
between  my  eyes  and  the  past,  so  that 
only  the  hill-tops  break  through  it. 


22   The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall 

Now,  I  will  tell  of  the  passing  of 
Snore  and  Helga,  and  like  the  scenes 
of  a  play,  the  last  scene  of  my  tale  is 
the  bloodiest — for  fighting  was  the  half 
of  men's  lives  in  those  days  —  thank 
the  Gods !  So,  to  the  end  of  the 
tale. 

As  we  rowed  up  the  fjord  past  the 
meadows  and  woodlands,  the  oars  making 
song  on  the  oar -pins  for  gladness, 
pointing  out  things  to  each  other,  my 
lord  and  I  talked  over  his  taking  of 
Helga  to  wife  on  the  morrow;  my  lord 
laughing  loud  and  resting  his  hand  on 
my  shoulder  and  glancing  back  ever  at 
Helga  as  she  sat  looking  out  on  the 
fields.  We  arranged  that  all  the  men 
of  his  land  should  be  called  in  for 
the  great  feast  that  night  at  the  castle, 
and  that  the  feast  should  be  until 
daybreak,  when  he  would  take  Helga 
as  wife  before  all  men.  Then  these 
things  being  arranged,  my  Lord  Snore 
went  to  her  and  told  her,  and  she 
answered  him  honestly  blushing  a  little 
that  she  was  glad ;  and  then  bade  him 
sit  down  beside  her,  and  tell  her  of 


The  Stveeping  of  the  Hall  23 

what  we  were  passing.  And  thus,  with 
Lord  Snore  sitting  beside  her  pointing 
out  woodland  and  meadow,  and  the  men 
smiling  up  at  them,  as  they  rowed  in 
the  waist  of  the  ship,  we  came  to  the 
strand  and  the  old  castle  stood  before 
us;  and  landing  we  pulled  the  ship  up 
on  the  beach  and  with  the  crowds 
laughing  and  welcoming  us  and  all 
confusion,  we  all  went  up  to  the  castle. 
I  remember  till  now,  the  great  comfort 
it  was  to  get  fresh  boots  and  clothes, 
and  new  harp-strings,  and  soft  cushions 
to  sit  on. 

It  was  a  great  feast  that  night !  The 
long  hall  with  the  smoke-stained  walls, 
hung  with  great  boat-shields  and  bright 
arms,  with  skins  of  bear  and  deer,  and 
with  branches  of  green  oak  and  beech 
leaves. 

Down  through  the  whole  length  ran 
the  long  table,  loaded  with  meat  and 
drink,  and  from  the  cushioned  bench 
where  sat  Snore  and  Helga,  to  the  other 
end  of  the  table,  were  laughing  and 
welcoming.  And  from  the  fire  at  the 
end  of  the  hall,  where  two  deer  swung, 


24    The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall 

cooking  and  burning,  in  the  blaze,  and 
from  the  great  candles  along  the  gay 
walls  came  yellow  light  shining  on  arms 
and  laughing  faces. 

And  the  smell  of  the  cooking  deer 
came  through  the  hall,  and  the  cakes  of 
brown  meal  were  piled  up  on  the  end 
of  the  table,  and  the  great  mugs  rang 
as  the  drinking  men  struck  them  to 
gether,  and  the  voices  and  laughter  rose 
loud  in  the  hall.  And  then  the  men 
rose,  shouting,  to  my  lord,  and  drank 
welcome  and  "  skaal "  to  him ;  and, 
standing,  they  drank  a  great  welcome  to 
my  lady,  and  the  mugs  came  down  with 
a  crash  on  the  board,  and  the  shouting 
was  long  ere  it  rested.  Then  my  lady 
spoke  from  the  place  that  she  held  by 
Lord  Snore  and  thanked  them  in 
woman's  words;  and  they  roared  again 
in  their  gladness. 

After,  they  called  to  me  for  a  song. 
Then  I  stood  up  and  sang  to  them  with 
my  harp ;  I  sang  of  peace,  and  of  the 
glory  of  it ;  and  of  battle,  and  of  the 
strong  joy  of  it;  and  of  welcome,  and 
so  again  peace.  And  the  men  stood, 


The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall  25 

shouting,  unto  my  lord,  till  the  hall  rang 
with  it;  and  the  great  fire  roared,  and 
the  yellow  light  flashed  on  the  arms 
and  the  faces,  and  glowed  on  the  painted 
shields  hung  on  the  walls — oh  it  was  a 
great  feast! 

And  now,  O  king,  this  is  the  last 
scene  of  my  play — all  this  was  long  ago, 
and  these  loves  and  these  lives  have 
passed  away  utterly. 

It  was  far  in  the  night  and  the  empty 
platters  and  dishes  were  piled  on  the 
floor,  and  the  men  were  drinking  the 
frothing  beer,  resting  their  mugs  on  the 
foam  -  dripping  board  or  on  the  empty 
seats  of  the  drunken,  who  lay  around 
the  sides  of  the  hall  asleep  on  the 
rushes ;  the  arms  were  thrown  in  the 
corners  with  dishes,  and  the  air  felt 
chill  ere  the  dawning  in  spite  of  the 
piled-up  fire. 

Now  Helga  being  weary  arose,  and 
leaned  towards  my  lord  Snore  to  kiss 
him  ere  she  went  to  her  chamber,  and  I 
who  sat  by  the  side  of  my  lord,  looked 
up  at  her,  smiling;  for  she  had  never 
kissed  him  before  among  men.  And  look- 


26    The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall 

ing,  I  saw,  ere  their  lips  met,  a  change 
come  into  the  eyes  of  Helga  and  she 
stood  still.  Then,  making  a  little  gesture 
as  of  casting  something  away  from  her, 
she  stooped  again,  but  the  change  grew 
in  her  eyes  and  she  could  not.  I  fol 
lowed  her  look  to  where  it  rested  on  the 
curtained  door  that  enters  the  hall  from 
the  apartments  which  face  on  the  water. 

Slowly  I  reached  for  my  axe,  and  lean 
ing  to  look  at  my  lord  as  I  lifted  up  his, 
I  saw  him  waiting  expectantly,  shyly 
before  his  men,  for  Helga's  good-night. 
So  I  leaned  a  moment.  Then  I  whispered 
to  him,  and  put  the  axe  in  his  hand. 

The  great  table  is  overturned,  the  broken 
stools  and  benches  lie  over  the  floor,  the 
fire  is  scattered,  and  the  flying  ashes  drift 
in  the  smoke  and  swirl  around  the  heads 
of  the  combatants,  making  them  cough  as 
they  strike.  The  drunken  men  along  the 
walls  are  stabbed  or  trampled  among  the 
torn  rushes,  and  the  foe  that  have  stolen 
in  through  the  seaward  windows  are 
pressing  over  the  benches. 

We  are  behind  the  upturned  table,  and 


The  Siveeping  of  the  Hall  27 

fighting  desperately,  our  backs  to  the  wall. 
The  enemy  rush  against  the  table  but 
the  long  arms  of  our  men  drive  them 
back.  I  am  holding  a  boat-shield  from 
the  wall  over  Helga  and  using  my  axe 
with  the  other  hand. 

Lord  Snore  is  sweeping  the  space  in 
front  of  him  clear;  he  has  thrown  aside 
his  shield.  We  seem  to  have  been  fight 
ing  for  hours  in  the  dim  hall. 

Our  men  begin  to  fall  behind  the  table ; 
they  are  in  their  leather  coats,  and  guard 
badly  in  the  murk. 

The  swords  clang  on  the  edge  of  the 
table;  the  men  stumble  over  broken 
dishes.  I  see  through  the  smoke  one  of 
them  with  his  foot  fast  in  a  wooden  beer 
mug.  They  run  along  the  table  striking. 
The  smoke  comes  in  my  eyes,  and  the 
forms  grow  dim. 

Now  they  go  back  leaving  us,  and 
a  tall  man  dressed  in  strange  armour, 
breaks  through  them,  and  stands,  banging 
his  leg  with  his  sword. 

"  I  am  Swend,  kinsman  of  Rudolf  of 
Lolland;  and  I  came  and  found  his  hall 
ashes.  Say,  dost  thou  think  that  a  ship 


28    The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall 

with  the  dragon  beheaded,  can  sail  where 
it  will  and  no  man  be  the  wiser?  And 
who  was  it,  think  you,  that  drove  your 
ship — laughing?"  And  he  stood,  snarling 
and  digging  the  floor  with  his  sword- 
point,  like  a  wolf  in  his  anger. 

Then  Lord  Snore,  resting  his  axe  on  the 
table — "If  thou  art  the  man  who  fought 
with  my  father  and  called  two  fresh  ships 
to  thy  helping  then  I  am  glad  thou  art 
come  to  my  feast  in  my  hall!" 

Then  Swend — "Thou  hast  murdered  thy 
host  for  the  sake  of  his  daughter!  I, 
his  kinsman — "  and  he  stopped  while  the 
smoke  swirled  down  and  I  heard  him 
coughing. 

"Who  would  have  been  kinsman  to  me 
had  I  slept  in  my  ship,  Rudolfs  guest? 
And  the  maiden  chose  freely.  He  would 
have  bit  on  my  axe-blade — though  he  were 
Odin!"  And  Lord  Snore  lifted  his  axe, 
shouting  aloud  in  his  anger. 

I  hear  Swend  yell  to  his  men  through 
the  smoke;  the  floor  shakes  as  they  come 
running  towards  us.  They  break  out  of 
the  gloom;  they  leap  on  the  table  smit 
ing  and  stabbing.  But  the  long  arms  of 


The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall  29 

our  men  pull  them  down;  they  fall.  Lord 
Snore's  axe  swirls  and  bangs  on  their 
armour;  the  table  is  cleared.  They  draw 
back,  gasping  like  dogs;  their  wounded  lie 
against  the  wall  in  the  drip  of  the  candles. 
I  see  the  chests  of  our  men  heave  in 
their  weariness.  They  lean  with  their 
backs  against  the  wall,  wiping  their 
slippery  hands  on  the  skirts  of  their 
garments.  The  smoke  comes  down;  again 
they  come.  The  fight  closes  in  again  the 
struggling  forms  striking  over  the  table, 
I  catch  dim  sight  of  swift  grey  shapes 
and  the  flashing  of  swords  high  in  the 
air.  Our  men  are  panting  like  bulls;  I 
hear  the  straining  of  their  leather  coats 
as  they  lean,  striking  into  the  mist. 
Bodies  of  men  come  shocking  against  the 
table;  there  is  roaring,  and  trampling  of 
feet,  and  banging  and  clashing  of  armour, 
and  breaking  of  wood,  and  the  sound  of 
Lord  Snore's  axe  falling  regularly  comes 
through  the  darkness. 

All  this  comes  to  me,  dimly,  as  though 
through  a  dream,  and  dreaming,  I  catch 
a  passing  sight  of  the  shadowy  figures 
in  the  smoke  on  the  other  side  of  the 


so    The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall 

table.  The  fight  goes  on;  it  goes  on  for 
ever  and  ever  it  seems;  and  the  world 
in  the  smoke  and  the  noises  and  sounds 
of  the  combat  grow  farther  and  farther 
away;  they  come  to  me  unreally,  in  a 
far-off  roar,  like  the  sea. 

I  hear  the  sound  of  waves;  the  water 
roars,  and  roars,  and  roars — farther  and 
farther  —  then  nearer  again;  the  ship 
moves  and  heaves  and  turns  slowly  round 
under  the  motion.  And  now  I  hear  the 
sound  of  my  harp  playing,  coming  through 
the  sound  of  the  water;  that  ceases,  and 
I  hear  the  sound  of  Snore's  and  Helga's 
voices  speaking  softly.  I  hear  the  words 
— they  come  to  me  over  the  continuous 
sound  of  the  water — and  they  are  silly 
words,  about  a  piece  of  her  hair  that 
she  has  given  him — and  I  laugh — 

And  my  laugh  awakens  me,  sounding 
ghastly  under  the  dull  smoke;  and  the 
tumult  and  ringing  and  roar  of  the  com 
bat  springs  up  around  me  again. 

And  now,  over  the  banging  of  metal 
and  the  clashing  of  armour  on  armour 
and  the  sounds  of  the  trampling  and 
breaking  of  wood  and  the  howling,  comes 


The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall  31 

another  sound — surely  my  Lord  Snore's 
axe!  But  the  blows  are  so  quick,  there 
is  something  awesome,  unnatural,  in  the 
blows  of  a  man  falling  so  fast. 

And  now  I  am  aware  of  a  change  that 
has  come  in  the  fight.  I  no  longer  see  the 
ghost-figures  passing,  dim  in  the  smoke. 
The  sound  of  the  fighting  comes  from  out 
in  the  hall.  I  wait,  peering  into  the 
smoke.  Slowly  it  lifts  from  above  the 
table — lifts,  growing  dimmer. 

Outlines  come  out  of  the  distance.  The 
opposite  wall  of  the  hall  looms  up  into  the 
darkness.  The  candles  glimmer  and  show 
through  the  smoke.  I  look  down  the  hall. 
A.  grey  mass,  moving  indistinctly,  and  the 
sound  of  a  great  continuous  crashing  com 
ing  from  somewhere  within  it. 

The  smoke  lifts  more ;  bodies  of  men 
on  the  floor  come  out,  and  I  can  see  the 
dim  tapestries  waving  on  the  walls ;  and 
now  the  great  sound  of  the  crashing 
comes  louder. 

The  smoke  lifts  yet  more,  it  is  pouring 
out  of  the  windows  and  under  the  roof; 
the  walls  spring  out  into  distinctness;  and 
I  see,  plain,  the  end  of  the  hall. 


32    The  Siveepiny  of  the  Hall 

A  crowd  of  men  struggling  and  falling 
over  each  other  against  the  great  door ; 
the  flashing  of  armour,  swords  thrown  in 
the  air,  clenched  hands  raised  and  falling, 
the  end  of  the  hall  full  of  tumult  of 
arms  and  legs  and  bodies,  as  the  men 
rush  and  surge  over  each  other  against 
the  outlet. 

But,  dominating  all  in  its  hugeness, 
striking  the  men  before  it,  making  a 
glory  with  its  flying  axe — enormous,  irre 
sistible,  clothed  in  red,  seeming  to  shake 
the  air  with  the  roar  through  its  skin, 
yet  utterly  silent — Lord  Snore,  gone  mad 
with  the  combat,  striking  with  the 
strength  of  a  falling  tree — sweeping  out 
the  hall  before  him ! 

The  door  is  open !  The  men  pile  up  on 
the  threshold ;  the  door  grows  high — is 
darkened — is  full.  Grows  open — men  whirl 
along  the  floor  under  the  axe — the  wave 
breaks,  it  recedes,  it  runs  away  into  the 
corners,  it  dissolves  and  runs  away  in 
foam — the  door  is  empty. 

The  last  of  the  smoke  rolls  around  under 
the  roof,  the  walls  rock  with  the  rever 
beration,  and  the  sounds  of  our  voices 


The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall  33 

calling  to  one  another  are  lost  in  the 
echoes.  The  hall  heaves,  the  sounds  die, 
going  out  with  the  smoke  under  the  roof; 
and  the  pale  light  of  the  daybreak  falls 
through  the  long  windows.  The  candles 
gutter  and  go  out,  falling  down  from  the 
walls,  from  the  burned-out  spikes.  We 
stumble  over  the  table,  on,  over  the 
broken  benches,  and  over  the  bodies. 

It  was  a  good  fight,  O  king,  when 
Lord  Snore  swept  his  hall!  There  is  now 
but  little  more  to  tell.  We  found  a  great 
figure  standing  idly  by  the  door  when  we 
came  there;  it  was  swinging  a  great  axe 
in  its  hand,  with  its  head  sunk  on  its 
chest,  and  it  swayed  when  a  man  touched 
it,  and  fell  back  limply  into  our  arms. 

As  they  carried  him  up  the  hall  to 
wards  the  great  bench  a  white  figure  ran 
past  me. 

Then  the  lights  went  out,  the  world 
heaved,  and  I  fell  down  across  the  table; 
for  both  my  hands  had  been  cut  off  upon 
its  edge. 

When  next  I  saw  the  hall,  having  come 
back  out  of  the  long  unreality  that  had 
lasted  so  many  days,  the  first  snow  of 
c 


34    The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall 

the  winter  lay  on  the  window-ledges  and 
the  great  fire  was  blazing  merrily.  I  re 
member  how  strange  it  all  looked.  And 
there,  walking  up  and  down  slowly,  and 
leaning  on  my  lady  who  guided  him, 
was  the  wreck  of  a  great  man  who 
grasped  weakly  for  support  at  her  robe. 
I  went  up  to  him  and  stood  silently. 
My  lady  touched  me  with  her  hand  and 
whispered  to  me  to  speak  to  him.  Then 
said  I  to  my  lord  with  a  strange  softness 
in  my  throat :  "  I  hope  my  lord  is  better 
— after  his  sickness."  And  he  answered, 
"Yes,  yes — yes,  yes — yes,  yes — "  nodding 
his  head,  sillily.  And  then  my  lady  led 
him  to  the  great  bench,  and,  seating  him, 
talked  to  him  child-talk  and  tended  him 
gently. 

That  night,  as  I  sat  by  my  lady,  silent, 
the  boy  who  fed  me  having  gone  away 
to  the  others,  one  rose,  and  thinking  to 
please  me  I  suppose,  brought  me  my 
harp  out  of  an  inner  room. 

I  think  we  were  all  glad  when  my 
lord  died  at  the  last  snow.  Then  my 
lady  used  to  go  among  the  cottages  of 


The  Sweeping  of  the  Hall  35 

the  villagers,  tending  those  who  were 
sick,  talking  with  the  young  girls, 
and  comforting  all  who  were  in  any 
sorrow.  The  women  used  sometimes  to 
cry  when  she  spoke  to  them.  And  in 
about  three  months  after  we  buried  my 
lord,  when  summer  was  come  again,  and 
the  sun  had  already  begun  to  warp  the 
timbers  of  the  ship  on  the  beach,  when 
the  boys  ran  shouting  in  the  shallows, 
died  my  lady  also,  and  we  buried  her  by 
the  side  of  my  lord. 

Then  left  I  the  castle ;  and  men  tell  me 
that  it  is  pulled  down  to  build  more  houses 
for  the  villagers,  and  that  the  old  ship 
has  mouldered  away  on  the  beach  and 
can  no  more  be  seen. 

And  all  this  happened  years  ago  and  is 
forgotten.  If  some  one  will  hold  my  cup 
I  will  drink  "skaal"  to  the  king  that  he 
has  listened. 

And  this  is  the  tale  of  the  sweeping  of 
the  hall,  that  the  old  minstrel  used  to  tell 
at  the  board  of  King  Gorm,  waving  his 
handless  arms  in  the  glow  of  the  fire 
light. 


AN    INCIDENT 


AN    INCIDENT 

THE  great  fog  lay  dun  over  the  sea,  and 
the  shadows  moved  over  the  motionless 
ship,  passing  swiftly;  yet  there  was  no 
wind. 

We  lay  wrapped  in  the  wood-ashes 
coloured  air,  through  which  the  mast 
shone  glimmering  in  many  lines  when 
you  looked  at  it,  idly  swinging  under 
no  wind.  Easily  the  water  slipped  by, 
dimly  streaked,  through  the  cloudy 
vapour.  The  men  from  the  stern  could 
not  be  seen  by  those  in  the  bow. 

We  yawned  and  stretched  ourselves, 
the  peculiar  smell  of  the  fog  rising  into 
our  nostrils.  The  warm  air  lay  like  the 
weight  of  a  cloud  on  our  foreheads,  and 
we  grumbled  wearily,  wanting  a  sight  of 
the  sun. 

While  we  waited  thus  sighing,  out  of 
the  dun  vapour  on  the  right  came  a  cry 
indistinguishable.  After  we  had  been  on 
our  feet  for  some  moments,  there  came 

39 


40  An  Incident 

the  swift  wash  of  oar-blades,  and  their 
rabble  on  the  gunwale,  going  very  fast. 

Then  the  sound  of  a  far-away  crash, 
and,  after  a  little,  clinking  as  of  knife  on 
glass,  and  a  dead  murmur  of  voices  in 
the  fog. 

We  straightened  ourselves,  and  after  a 
moment  of  hesitation,  my  lord  gave  the 
word  to  get  out  the  oars,  which  we  did 
very  gladly  though  with  little  noise, 
pulling  carefully,  our  mast-top  lost  in 
the  shifting  roof.  Very  soon  we  could 
hear  the  sound  of  the  fighting  coming 
quite  plainly  over  the  dusky  sea;  and  in 
a  little  time  thereafter,  we  saw,  while 
the  vapour  swirled  back  for  a  moment, 
three  brown  hulks  near  together.  We 
lay  on  the  edge  of  the  foam-touched 
space  of  water,  catching  occasionally 
glimpses  of  the  moving  shapes:  only  a 
large  piece  of  wood  floated  past  us. 

Have  you  ever  listened  to  a  fight  at 
sea?  The  men  were  leaning  over  the 
bulwarks,  their  hands  on  their  axe- 
handles,  their  feet  grasping  firmly  the 
deck.  My  lord  raised  himself  in  a  mo 
ment;  we  ran  swiftly  along  the  water 


An  Incident  41 

under  the  quick,  ragged  stroke,  the  ships 
rose  before  us,  we  swept  past  the  side 
of  the  largest  one,  dropping  the  oars. 

The  man  next  to  me  leans  back  sud 
denly  just  as  my  bow  twangs;  arrows 
strike  into  the  bulwarks. 

Fierce  faces  and  bent  bows  send  their 
sound  of  shouting  and  twanging  at  us 
over  the  close  side  of  the  enemies'  ship. 
We  thrust  with  our  oars  that  slip  along 
the  timbers;  the  arrows  sing  and  streak 
past,  their  long  feathers  grey  like  storks. 

Then  the  ship  by  us  turns  off  into  the 
fog  with  a  dash  of  oars  that  sends  the 
white  spray  flashing  for  a  moment ;  it  is 
a  shadowy  form  in  the  mist;  a  tall 
brown  thing  disappears  beside  it;  we 
are  alone  on  the  smooth  water  with 
the  ship  we  have  come  to  help. 

The  hillside  is  sprinkled  with  flowers, 
the  setting  sun  draws  our  attention 
from  them.  "  Come,"  says  Lord  Erik  to 
my  lord,  "  let  us  go  in."  They  walk 
slowly  over  the  darkening  blossoms. 

"Ever  since  you  called  out  to  me 
through  the  fog,"  says  Lord  Erik,  "  and 


42  An  Incident 

came  on  with  me  and  became  my  guest, 
I  have  trusted  you  with  all  that  I  care, 
or  think,  or  am,  and  you  have  never 
before  told  me  of  this." 

My  lord  smiled  rather  sadly  at  the 
handsome,  eager,  young  face,  where  the 
emotion  of  disappointment  lay,  like  all 
emotions  on  those  expressive  features, 
bare. 

"We  do  not  always  speak  so  easily  of 
what  we  like,"  he  answered. 

"  Oh,  it  is  like  an  old  sail  you  speak 
of  her — why  do  you  not  care?"  And  the 
beardless  mouth  went  down.  "Does  she 
not  like  you  ? "  glancing  at  my  lord's 
strong  limbs. 

"Perhaps;  girls  do  not  usually  love  old 
men,"  my  lord  answered,  looking  kindly, 
amusedly,  at  the  boy. 

"  You  old !  You  are  not  old !  I  think 
of  you  as  something  with  me,  you " 

"Try  your  success  with  women,  my 
son,"  broke  in  my  lord  laughing ;  "  you, 
a  young  lord — come." 

They  went  in. 

A  word  about  us.  We  were  Eastern 
men  from  the  island ;  my  lord,  old, 


An  Incident  43 

burned-out,  —  though  not  with  years,  — 
restless  —  deliberately  —  silent,  kind,  secre 
tive,  and  wise  in  some  old-gained  sad 
kind  knowledge  of  men.  So  we  had 
cruised  where  my  lord  was  quiet,  seem 
ing  content,  till  in  the  fog  opportunity 
brought  us  new  friends,  at  whose  sunny, 
lonely  town  we  were  guests.  When  my 
lord  had  told  his  host  of  the  woman 
to  whom  he  was  betrothed,  idly,  we  men 
who  stood  by  watching  noticed  them 
keenly,  for  we  were  interested  in  my 
lord  and  the  why  of  his  choosing  the 
maiden.  She,  the  daughter  of  a  timid 
lord,  her  mother  dead — a  fair  thing  who 
gave  flowers  to  boys  in  fun. 

This  is  what  we  were. 

Now,  whether  it  was  the  beer  we  drank 
that  night,  or  whether  the  long  rest 
—  though  I  think  the  long  rest  —  the 
men  began  to  speak  in  loud  voices  with 
sea-tales.  Now,  the  young  lord,  his  slim 
right  hand  on  the  great  mug,  laughed 
to  my  lord:  "Let  us  go  and  make  some 
sea-tales ! "  and  laughing,  raised  his  mug 
to  his  lips,  glancing  merrily  at  his  guest 
over  the  top  as  he  drank. 


44  An  Incident 

"But  your  ship,"  said  my  lord  looking 
at  him. 

"  Let  us  go  in  yours,  mine  is  too  battered," 
answered  young  Erik.  "Ah — that  was  a 
joy — the  fog  and  the  shouting  and  the 
grey  ships ! " 

His  face  grew  pale  in  the  light  with 
excitement.  My  lord  seemed  reluctant. 

"Yes";  he  said.    "Where  shaU  we  go?" 

"  There — here — anywhere ! "  cried  young 
Erik,  jumping  to  his  feet  and  waving  his 
beer-mug  to  three  points  of  the  horizon. 

"The  men  in  my  town  will  take  care 
of  the  harvest." 

We  were  at  sea  again;  my  lord  cynical 
on  the  after-deck,  young  Erik  talking 
to  the  men. 

We  were  passing  a  sand-spit  that  ran 
out  into  the  calm  water  just  touched 
with  ripples.  Over  the  top  of  the  sand 
we  saw  masts  rising,  and  came  out  into 
the  open  again,  where  we  could  see  the 
yellow  over  our  sides  through  the  light 
green  water,  the  sand-spit  falling  behind 
— we  saw  three  great  ships,  heavy-masted, 
long -yard -armed  and  with  sharp  prow. 


An  Incident  45 

These  slowly  neared  with  flapping  sails, 
and  we  could  see  that  the  decks  were 
crowded  with  men.  They  passed  by,  as 
they  went  hailing  us  in  rough  tongue, 
laughing  out  many-languaged  questions 
as  to  where  we  had  come  from. 

Then  came  something  that  was  very 
strange.  A  few  men  and  myself  saw  my 
lord  very  slowly  take  up  a  cross-bow  and 
drawing  it,  deliberately  shoot  an  arrow 
into  the  side  of  one  of  the  nearest  ships. 
A  yell  of  defiance  came  over  the  water, 
and  young  Erik  cried  to  every  man  to 
take  his  arms. 

Why  had  my  lord  shot  that  arrow  ? 
Who  can  say?  We  do  not  know. 

They  came  down  on  us  singing  Ice 
landic  songs,  as  is  the  custom  of  most  of 
these  people,  for  the  ships  were  princi 
pally  full  of  these  men. 

One  ship  passed  close  by  us  and  the  men 
shouting  over  the  sides,  threw  spears  at 
us  as  they  went  by,  brushing  us  with 
their  oars.  Then  this  ship  rounded  on 
behind  us,  and  the  spears  came  in 
showers  over  the  stern. 

But    part    of    our    men,    dropping   their 


46  An  Incident 

weapons,  and  throwing  themselves  at 
the  oars,  drove  us  over  the  sparkling  sea, 
toward  the  ship  that  came  gliding  to 
ward  us,  with  a  howl  from  the  enemy 
that  reverberated  in  the  ears  of  the 
straining  men  inside  our  wooden  bul 
warks,  our  long  prow  cut  into  their  ship's 
side.  I  saw  their  mast  bend  away  from 
us.  The  other  ship  now  came  on,  singing. 

We  shoot  at  her  with  our  long-bows, 
and  the  singing  is  turned  to  shouting  as 
they  come  toward  us.  My  lord  shouts  to 
pull  on  the  right-hand  oars  and  while 
some  of  us  tug  wildly  the  others  shoot 
over  the  side.  Slowly  we  turn,  and  the 
heeling  ship  before  us  comes  into  view 
over  the  bow  —  slowly  we  turn,  as  the 
third  ship  nears  us.  We  move  round, 
and,  their  arrows  in  our  faces,  they  go 
sweeping  by — just  by — the  oars  grazing. 

And  now  we  can  see  the  ship  we  have 
run  down  as  she  turns  over  her  deck  to 
us;  the  men  tumble  down  the  rowers' 
benches;  they  leap  into  the  water;  she 
settles  sideways,  the  water  bubbling. 

Now  come  the  two  other  ships  from 
behind  us. 


An  Incident  47 

Young  Lord  Erik  lies  wounded  on  the 
after-deck.  Half  of  the  men  sit  white, 
about  the  arrow-struck  mast.  The  other 
two  ships  come  on. 

My  lord  cries  to  face  them,  and  we 
move  slowly,  seeing  over  the  bow  the 
ships  rush  on  over  the  place  where  their 
comrades  sank,  striking  the  heads  of  the 
swimming  men  with  their  oar-blades. 

We  drop  our  arms  and,  heaving  three 
times  on  the  long- oars,  send  our  ship 
between  the  other  two. 

A  flight  of  arrows,  a  glimpse  on  each 
side  of  a  passing  mast  —  they  are  behind 
us.  My  lord  calls  from  the  after-deck, 
"Row  away,  row  away!" 

Turning  my  head  to  look  at  him  I  see 
him  laughing,  the  bow  still  in  his  hand. 

We  rowed  round  the  sand-spit,  and  as 
we  went  round  it  we  saw  the  two  ships 
close  together  picking  up  men  from  where 
a  mast  stuck  up  out  of  the  light-green 
water. 

"It  is  the  second  time  we  have  been 
comrades,"  said  young  Lord  Erik,  his  right 
arm  bandaged,  gazing  up  palely  at  my 
lord  as  they  stood  by  the  rail. 


48  An  Incident 

My  lord  smiled. 
"Yes,  true,"  he  said. 

We  were  running  along  a  forest-covered 
strand,  where  the  roots  of  old  trees  gnarled 
themselves  into  the  water. 

"Now  we  must  go  to  the  hall  that  I 
told  you  about,"  said  my  lord. 

"Yes  and  see  the  girl  I  am  so  eager 
to  see!"  exclaimed  young  Lord  Erik,  his 
white  face  lighting  as  he  gazed  up  smil 
ing  to  my  lord. 

He  laughed. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  "it  is  both  pleasant  and 
good,"  and  he  gazed  along  the  depleted 
seats. 

The  next  day  there  was  a  strange  ex 
citement  in  my  lord's  eyes,  and  we  began 
to  put  together  our  clothes.  And  late  in 
the  afternoon  we  came  into  the  little  bay 
on  the  shore  of  which  lay  old  Raud's 
castle.  We  ran  through  the  water  haul 
ing  our  ship  up  with  cables,  and  with 
shouting  from  the  people  coming  welcom- 
ingly  down  from  the  castle,  we  hastened 
up  the  beach. 

As  we  sat  over  the  meat  that  night,  a 


An  Incident  49 

curtain  was  pulled  aside  from  the  door  by 
Lord  Raud's  chair,  and  he,  rising  feebly, 
my  lord  slowly,  and  smiling,  and  young 
Lord  Erik  jumping  to  his  feet  eagerly, 
we  saw  her  come  gliding  in  whom  we 
had  seen  often  before.  She  gave  her  hand 
timidly,  yet  with  a  little  laugh,  to  my 
lord,  shyly  yet  kindly  to  young  Lord  Erik, 
and  welcomed  them  as  her  guests  as  her 
father  had  welcomed  them  as  his  at  the 
castle-door  as  we  passed  over  it.  How 
such  a  maiden  could  be  the  daughter  of 
such  a  feeble,  timid,  dainty  old  man  as 
Lord  Raud,  I  could  never  know.  As  a 
child  pretending  to  ask  for  forgiveness 
was  her  face — half-laughing  and  half-sor 
rowful.  Her  moving  was  like  a  ripple  of 
blown  cloth,  it  was  so  springing  grace 
ful.  And  her  eyes,  when  they  occasionally 
looked  at  you,  had  a  woman's  innocence, 
never  a  man's  straightforwardness. 

It  was  sun-set  three  days  later.  Walk 
ing  on  the  beach  I  could  see  my  lord  and 
Hildur  pacing  slowly,  he  laughing,  along 
the  grass  that  stretched  by  the  path  to 
the  houses  in  the  wood.  The  scene  was 
lit  up  by  one  of  the  sometimes  far-reach- 
D 


so  An  Incident 

ing  clear  sunsets  of  autumn.  I  could  see 
her  hand  raised  in  remonstrance,  and 
though  I  was  too  far,  1  could  see  that 
they  were  both  laughing.  Presently  she 
nodded  her  head  of  gold  hair  to  him,  and 
turned  into  the  castle-door,  leaving  him 
alone  in  the  soft,  far,  unusual,  light.  He 
turned. 

As  he  moved,  I  saw  that  he  was  not 
laughing.  As  he  came  down  to  the 
beach,  I  could  see  the  same  excitement 
in  his  eyes  that  had  always  been  there 
when  he  came  near  her,  since  his  hair 
began  to  grizzle,  and  she  used  to  bring 
the  cynical  old  father's  friend  his  beer 
in  the  great  hall  after  meat  —  a  little 
maiden. 

He  passed  me  and  turning  at  a  word 
behind  me,  I  saw  him  meet  young  Lord 
Erik;  smiling  again.  But  the  young  man's 
face  was  troubled,  that  face  on  which 
all  emotions  were  like  shadows  on  even 
water. 

Not  a  word,  after  my  lord's  greeting, 
passed. 

Suddenly,  my  lord  called  to  me  over  his 
shoulder : 


An  Incident  51 

"Lord  Erik  wishes  to  go  home,  wilt  thou 
take  ship  with  him  and  come  back  to  me?" 

Their  figures  were  dim  in  the  lessened 
light. 

"  Let  another  man  go ;  I  stay.  Send  one 
of  the  younger  men,"  I  answered. 

My  lord  held  out  his  hand  to  me.  Young 
Lord  Erik's  face  was  white  in  the  dusk. 

Over  our  beer,  by  the  fire-light,  I  could 
see  the  glances  Hildur  threw  to  young 
Lord  Erik,  I  could  see  his  hard-shut 
mouth;  I  could  see  my  lord's  cynical 
smile  and  the  gleam  of  the  excitement 
in  his  eyes;  I  could  see  old  Lord  Raud, 
daintily  fingering  his  beer  -  mug  -  handle — 
thoughts  far  away.  And  I  was  glad  I 
had  stayed  by  my  lord. 

So,  the  next  day  young  Lord  Erik  went 
north  with  the  ship.  And  my  lord  stood 
on  the  beach  smiling  gaily  and  called 
out  gay  words  of  next  summer.  And 
the  young  face  brightened  for  a  moment 
as  the  ship  drew  away. 

Well,  all  that  day  I  followed  my  lord 
about,  smiling  at  his  gay  moods,  quiet 
when  he  forgot  —  which  gave  me  plea 
sure.  I  am  sure  he  tried  to  leave  me 


52  An  Incident 

behind  him  sometimes,  after  mid-day, 
by  fast  walking,  but  I  came.  And  to 
ward  evening,  as  we  tramped  back  along 
the  beach  to  the  hall,  I  coming  behind, 
my  lord  turned,  and  started  running.  In 
a  moment  I  caught  him;  and  he  bent 
suddenly  over  my  shoulder,  with  a  sound 
like  a  seal  grunting.  So,  I  held  him  for 
a  moment  till  he  shook  himself  into  him 
self  again  and  walked  up  towards  the 
castle,  I  falling  back  again;  we  never 
said  anything  about  this. 

Now  I  go  out  on  a  long  ending,  that  is 
only  true.  After  some  days  of  silent 
smiling  on  the  part  of  Hildur — to  me  she 
looked  very  ugly  —  and  much  laughter — 
which  cheered  old  Lord  Raud  —  on  the 
part  of  my  lord,  he  asked  Lord  Baud  to 
give  him  the  maiden  now,  for  he  was 
anxious  to  take  her  away.  So  my  lord 
spoke  to  her  about  it,  and  she  said  yes. 

Then  we  went  away;  and  old  Lord  Raud 
stood  on  the  beach,  our  ship  being  back, 
and  large  tears  came  down  from  his  eyes. 
So  we  all  went  home  again  and  took  the 
maiden  with  us. 

There  is  little  use   in    telling  a  tale    of 


An  Incident  53 

women.  Yet  some  scenes  rest  with  me 
that  concern  my  lord,  so  I  tell  it  all. 
Thus  those  two  used  to  walk  past  the 
door  of  the  hall,  and  past  again,  while  I 
stood  in  the  doorway ;  and  I  would  hear 
what  they  said,  for  my  lord  did  not  care 
for  me,  and  it  was  very  loving.  But 
after  it  was  over  he  would  go  down  to 
the  water  and  look  out,  and  stretch  his 
arms,  and  yawn — then  break  in  with  a 
laugh  and  walk  back  again. 

Often  in  mid-summer  came  ships,  and 
their  men  were  well  fed  and  liked  us. 

Hildur  used  to  be  gay  now  only  when 
these  ships  would  come;  in  the  winter 
she  was  silent. 

The  house  was  badly  kept;  many  times 
I  have  made  rough  sowing  for  my  lord, 
so  that  he  would  not  know. 

When  spring  came  and  the  sea  was 
bright  at  the  early  morning,  we  would 
often  get  drunk  in  the  hall  toward  night 
after  standing  watching  the  glancing  of 
little  waves  through  the  lazy  day.  I 
used  to  put  water  in  my  lord's  beer 
that  he  might  not  drink  too  much.  He 
never  used  to  speak  of  young  Erik  now; 


54  An  Incident 

of  which  I  was  glad;  he  was  only  a 
boy. 

So  the  spring  went  by  and  the  green 
of  the  leaves  grew  darker  and  the  sun 
light  lingered  over  the  sea  till  late.  There 
were  no  good  dishes  in  the  hall,  and  the 
women  who  cooked  never  thought  of  the 
things  my  lord  liked.  Hildur  would  go 
to  her  chamber  early,  and  we  all  would 
wander  out  along  the  sea-shore,  away 
from  the  clatter  of  dishes  the  women 
made.  And  when  it  grew  dark  we  would 
come  in  and  sing  over  great  beer-tank 
ards  ;  but  we  loved  the  beer  better  than 
the  soon -died -out  singing. 

We  were  weary  in  the  sunshine,  and 
old  sea-sagas  came  to  us  so  easily.  The 
women  were  cross,  and  children  cried, 
instead  of  running  about  in  the  forest. 
I  do  not  know  what  is  in  man,  or  how 
himself  works  on  himself;  we  are  parts 
of  the  woods,  the  sea,  the  far  light.  The 
spring  was  running  into  summer ;  the  free 
air  in  the  night  made  us  gasp  like  tired 
dogs,  and  we  felt  smothered. 

That  night  my  lord  sat  on  a  piece  of 
rock  overlooking  the  sea,  I  was  behind 


An  Incident  55 

him.  All  in  front  of  us  was  dark,  but 
we  could  hear  the  sound  of  the  water 
come  from  away  and  all  along  the  coast. 

Then,  out  of  the  silence  that  lies 
under  the  world,  came  over  the  edge  of 
the  sea,  the  bare,  silver,  edge  of  the 
moon,  lighting  slowly  the  tips  of  the 
waves.  No  mist  around  her;  the  un 
roofed,  upward  depths  of  the  sky,  full 
of  suspended  stars,  that  seemed  to  wink, 
being  alive.  She  rose  out  of  the  sea, 
reaching  toward  us  the  elves-bridge  she 
carries,  over  which  we  cannot  see  the 
spirits  pass;  sending  out  her  still  beckon 
ing  that  she  sends  to  all  men.  The 
little  waves  danced  joyously  in  the  light ; 
there  was  no  sound  at  all  from  the 
shore,  only  the  water  whispering  on  the 
sands. 

My  lord  sat  black,  in  the  moonlight. 
After  a  while  he  got  up  and  returned 
toward  the  shadowy  hall. 

He  went  in  and  took  a  great  tankard  of 
beer  from  my  hand  and  drank,  then 
turned  toward  me. 

"The  beer  is  warm — too  warm,"  he  said. 
"What  a  beautiful  night.  The  beer  is  too 


56  An  Incident 

warm."  He  waved  his  hand  with  one  of 
his  old  indifferent  gestures,  his  mouth 
trembling.  I  filled  him  another  tankard 
of  beer;  he  drank  it  at  a  drink  and  then 
asked  for  another,  this  he  also  drank  and 
threw  himself  down  on  a  bench.  "  Drink  !  " 
he  said,  "drink!"  laughing  loud. 

I  drink  with  him  again  and  again.  He 
leans  back  on  his  bench  laughing.  "Ah. 
old  war-follower!"  he  cries,  his  voice  ring 
ing  strange  in  the  empty  moonlit  hall. 
"Dost  thou  remember  our  first  cruise? 
We  took  the  battleship !  and  that  other ; 
where  we  were  caught  in  the  ice.  Dost 
thou  remember  Lord  Raud  ?  Ah !  that 
was  a  grand  time.  And  when  we  chased 
the  bears  in  Lord  Snore's  forest.  Through 
all  our  cruises;  that  old  ship  off  Norway 
that  we  chased  and  frightened  so?  See 
the  moonlight!"  he  said,  suddenly,  and 
stopped  laughing.  Then,  with  a  wave  of 
his  long  arm,  he  leaned  back  and  called 
out  again.  "  Jolly  war-dog !  Ah ! — another 
tankard;  Skaal!  Skaal!  to  our  old  times! 
Skaal!  Ah!  Old  war-dog!  It  is  not  good 
for  men  to  put  their  hearts  on  women. 
They  find  them  empty;  there  is  no  water 


An  Incident  57 

in  an  unfilled  pitcher — better  the  old  sea- 
shells,  like  us,  that  are  always  filled.  Do 
you  know,"  and  he  started  up  and  shook 
his  beer-tankard  in  the  moonlight,  a  tall 
figure,  "that,  since  I  was  a  young  man,  I 
have  loved  that  woman !  She  was  a  little 

Be  silent!  A  ghost  comes!"  He  grasped 

my  arm. 

There,  gliding  in  all  in  white  through 
the  door  at  the  side  of  the  hall  came 
Hildur  like  a  spirit  in  the  moonlight.  She 
spoke  from  where  she  stood,  and  our  de 
lusion  of  a  spirit  was  scattered.  For  she 
spoke  cross,  empty  words,  as  she  stood 
by  the  disorderly  hearth  complaining  of 
neglect. 

I  stood  by  my  lord's  bench,  and  I  saw 
the  old  excitement  come  into  his  eyes. 
She  went  on  complaining;  beautiful  in  the 
moonlight.  My  lord  raised  his  tankard  and 
took  a  long  drink,  then  with  the  same  old 
cynical  laugh,  he  stood  there;  and  she 
stopped.  Then  my  hands  gripped  the  back 
of  the  bench,  for  my  lord,  still  laughing, 
threw  the  empty  tankard  at  her  with  all 
his  force.  I  saw  her  lie  white  in  the 
moonlight.  So  that  is  ended. 


58  An  Incident 

The  next  day  we  buried  her,  who  had 
died  from  a  fall  from  the  hall-terrace 
to  the  rocks  beneath.  And  in  the  after- 
mid-day,  we  sailed  in  our  ship,  past  the 
green  woods.  We  sailed  north  to  young 
Lord  Erik's  town,  and  found  him  married, 
and  happy  with  kisses  and  things.  So 
we  sailed  away  again  laughing  at  this 
easy  consolement,  and  my  lord  was  very 
gay  at  the  pleasure  of  the  sea. 

Soon  the  men  were  brown,  and  the  sun 
shone  above  level  waters,  and  we  sailed 
lazily  past  dense  woods. 

Thus  one  day,  as  we  landed  to  cook  our 
meat  under  the  trees,  one  of  the  men 
thought  he  saw  a  glance  of  armour  away 
off  in  the  forest.  But  thinking  it  was 
only  the  sunlight  on  one  of  the  beech- 
trunks,  we  cooked  and  sat  down  to  our 
meat. 

They  came  running  out  of  the  forest, 
trying  to  break  past  us  to  get  to  the 
ship.  There  was  clank  of  swords  on 
armour,  and  the  smoke  from  the  fire 
wavered  from  its  straight  column;  then, 
they  drew  back.  Their  chief  came  from 
the  beach-reaches  now,  and  laughing  said 


An  Incident  59 

they  had  lost  their  ship,  so,  seeing  ours, 
had  tried  to  rush  into  it,  and  get  away 
before  we  could  beat  them  off. 

So  we  asked  them  to  sit  and  have  meat 
with  us,  and  they  sat  down ;  though  we 
were  careful  of  our  arms  till  they  had 
eaten. 

And  the  next  day  we  landed  them  at 
a  town,  where  they  might  build  another 
ship. 

This  is  the  tale  of  the  marriage  of  my 
lord  just  as  it  happened. 


WHERE  THE  WOLVES  DANCE 


WHERE  THE  WOLVES  DANCE 

THREE  years  before,  in  the  winter  time, 
I  had  brought  my  wife  Elsa  from  her 
father's,  loving  her  as  fools  and  lonely 
men  love  dogs  and  women.  So  I  kept 
ever  near  her,  but  was  shy  of  her.  Now 
this  is  the  tale  of  a  very  strange  thing, 
and  it  begins  from  her.  Though  my  hall 
stood  far  to  the  west  on  the  main,  where 
even  the  sight  of  the  sand-hills  could  be 
found  from  the  highest  tower,  yet  there 
were  trees  and  gardens  on  the  other  side, 
and  paths  ran  down  to  little  ponds,  and 
cattle  browsed  over  rich  uplands  and 
sheep  grew  fat.  There  were  sixty  men  in 
my  hall;  heavy  men  and  slow,  but  slow 
to  change,  and  as  their  fathers  leant 
before  them,  so  they  leant  also  from  the 
worn  castle  windows,  and  the  window- 
sills  were  smooth  with  the  rubbing  of 
their  elbows.  As  to  the  hall  and  its 
build,  there  is  little  need  be  said.  It  was 

63 


64      Where  the    Wolves  Dance 

square  and  large,  and  partly  of  stone, 
with  a  banquetting  -  hall,  and  enough  of 
small  rooms  and  of  cellars  for  the  stor 
age  of  meat  and  milk  and  beer.  In  the 
summer  sometimes  I  would  go  down  to 
the  coast,  and  crossing  in  my  ship  over 
to  Foen,  buy  cattle  or  grain  or  go  to 
the  south  ports  for  some  strange  rare 
thing  for  my  lady;  thus  it  was  for  three 
years,  and  contentment  had  grown  round 
me  like  a  woof. 

So  one  day  a  horseman  came  riding 
slowly.  He  bore  to  me  a  message  that 
three  of  the  priests  of  the  Lord-Bishop  of 
Lund  demanded  shelter  that  night  under 
my  roof.  I  was  standing  dressed  in  my 
best  leather  suit  and  with  my  handsomest 
sword-belt  by  my  chair  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  when  the  door  swung  open  and 
they  entered.  They  came  slowly  up  the 
hall  into  the  light,  and  lifting  their  heads 
when  they  came  to  the  bottom  steps  at 
the  top  of  which  I  stood,  they  showed 
the  faces  of  three  old  worldly  men,  fed 
on  the  follies  and  the  agonies  of  man. 
They  were  all  pale  and  stooping,  but  the 
one  to  the  right,  a  tall  man  with  one 


Where  the    Wolves  Dance     65 

shoulder  higher  than  the  other,  bent  the 
most,  and  leant  upon  the  shortest  priest, 
who  was  in  the  middle. 

"Greeting,"  I  said;  "you  are  most  welcome." 
They  advanced  up  the  steps  and  the 
tall  old  priest  stepped  towards  me  and 
blessed  me  in  a  low  voice,  and  then 
asked  to  be  shown  to  his  room.  I  con 
ducted  him  myself,  leading  the  way  to 
the  apartment  with  a  candle,  and  the 
two  others  followed,  their  arms  crossed 
over  their  chests.  Thus  came  the  learned 
Father  Cefron  into  my  house.  Next 
morning  the  two  other  priests  departed 
in  haste,  the  way  they  had  come,  to 
inform  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Lund  that 
the  learned  Father  Cefron  was  ill  and 
like  to  die,  which  indeed  seemed  to  be 
true.  I  sat  by  his  bedside  as  he  lay 
with  his  face  to  the  wall,  his  shaven 
head  looking  dark  against  the  bed-clothes. 
"When  will  he  come?  When  will  he 
come?"  he  would  murmur;  then  clench 
ing  his  hands  and  turning  towards  me 
and  sticking  both  fists  out,  "  I  want  the 
boy,"  he  said;  then  flinging  his  face  to 
the  wall  impatiently.  This  kept  on  for 
B 


66      Where   the    Wolves  Dance 

two  days,  till  I  sent  a  messenger  to  the 
one  of  the  two  priests  whom  I  had  liked 
most  (the  fat  one),  asking  who  he,  "the 
boy,"  was,  and  telling  him  how  the 
learned  Father  Cefron  lay  calling  for 
him  and  would  not  be  quiet.  In  eight 
days  there  came  back  my  messenger,  say 
ing  that  he,  the  boy,  would  follow  on, 
and  would  probably  be  at  the  hall  to 
morrow  morning  early.  So  it  was.  While 
I  was  yet  in  bed  I  heard  the  barking  of 
dogs  in  the  courtyard,  and  the  cracking 
of  whips,  and  the  voices  of  the  men  call 
ing  to  one  another,  and  the  clatter  of 
their  wooden  shoes  on  the  stones.  I  sent 
word  that  he  should  at  once  be  taken  to 
Father  Cefron  if  so  be  that  Father  Cefron 
was  awake ;  and  he  went  quickly  and  I 
did  not  see  him  at  all  till  after  noon  that 
day.  Then,  as  I  rose  from  my  meat — the 
men  had  already  trooped  out  of  the  hall, 
their  dinner  over — there  entered  through 
the  tapestried  door  a  tall,  broad-backed, 
narrow  hipped,  slim  -  limbed,  youth,  who 
held  his  head  high,  and  bore  eyes  full  of 
laughter  under  his  wild  light  hair. 

"  My    Lord    Olaf ,"     he     said,     extending 


Where   the    Wolves  Dance     67 

his  hand,  "  I  ask  your  pardon  for  coming 
late  to  my  meat;  but  good  Father  Cefron 
has  wanted  me  with  him.  I  have  been 
much  with  him  since  a  child,  you  know." 

I  welcomed  him  as  a  guest  should  be 
welcomed,  and  called  for  more  meat  to 
be  placed  before  him  and  some  ale ;  but 
the  ale  he  only  sipped  and  I  sent  to 
the  back  of  my  cellars  for  some  bottles 
of  Southern  wine,  which  he  liked  much 
better  and  thanked  me  for,  and  which  I 
liked  him  the  less  for  liking  better  than 
the  ale.  When  we  had  drank  and  eaten, 
we  rose,  and  taking  my  arm,  he  walked 
with  me  up  and  down  the  end  of  the  hall. 
"Old  Father  Cefron,"  he  began,  "is 
a  learned  man,  but  a  man  who  has 
kept  too  strictly  within  the  rules  of 
his  order  ;  he  lacks  blood,  therefore 
he  lacks  heart ;  he  has  only  a  head, 
but  that  head  is  one  whose  like  will 
not  be  seen  in  Skandinavia  again  in 
this  century " ;  and  the  youth's  voice  was 
touched  with  enthusiasm.  "Now  why  it 
is  I  do  not  know,  but  having  killed  the 
man  in  him  over  ponderous  books,  he 
feels  he  must  have  me  to  put  some 


68      Where  the    Wolves  Dance 

laughter  in  his  life,  and  give  him  some 
thing  human  to  think  of  for  the  moment 
when  he  is  tired  of  the  battles  and 
treaties  and  that  of  dead  kings;  there 
fore  it  is,  my  lord  and  host,  that  I  would 
venture  to  ask  of  you  as  Father  Cefron 
has  asked  me  to  ask  of  you — indeed  has 
commanded — that  you  let  me  stay  with 
him  here  in  the  castle  till  the  term  of 
his  life  is  ended,  which  seems  not  very 
long." 

So  young  Heinrick  became  one  of  my 
household,  and  though  I  never  liked  him 
for  his  dainty  ways  and  foreign  pretti- 
nesses,  yet  I  became  used  to  him,  and  his 
figure  was  familiar  on  the  edges  of  my 
fish-ponds,  in  the  corridors  of  my  hall, 
and  was  seldom  absent  when  the  time 
for  eating  came.  He  seemed  to  be  much 
with  Father  Cefron  in  the  early  evening, 
and  I  could  hear  Father  Cefron's  groans 
come  from  his  chamber  sometimes  when 
I  passed  by  the  door ;  and  he  was  good 
at  wrestling  tricks,  and  quick  to  a  wonder 
at  southern  fence,  yet  I  liked  him  none 
the  better,  and  I  could  see  that  the  men 
liked  him  neither,  for  they  would  not  learn 


Where   the    Wolves  Dance     69 

his  wrestling  tricks  till  pressed  almost  to 
command,  and  I  could  see  them  whisper 
ing  and  glancing  after  him  as  he  passed 
by.  By  this  time  my  Lady  Elsa  and 
myself  lived  as  most  loving  people.  I 
would  take  her  to  the  fish-ponds,  and 
she  would  scream  and  find  delight  in  the 
excitement;  or  sometimes  she  would  come 
to  meet  me  through  the  wood  with  some 
of  her  women  and  some  men  to  folloAV, 
and  I  would  come  making  the  wood 
hoarsely  musical  through  my  curved  horn, 
and  bring  her  deer  from  the  uplands  and 
great  hares  shot  with  crossbow,  and  some 
times  little  birds,  very  hard  to  come  near, 
which  dwell  among  the  sand-hills  to  the 
westward;  then  she  would  always  have 
flowers  in  her  room;  in  the  winter  ever 
greens  and  the  mystical,  bunched,  mistle 
toe,  and  ever  my  favourite  meats  and 
green  things,  cooked  or  wild,  all  the  year 
were  before  me. 

It  was  as  the  winter  came  on  that  I  fell 
ill  and  the  fever  came  into  me;  and  after 
lying  for  three  days  I  tried  to  get  up  out 
of  my  bed.  I  can  remember  them  carry 
ing  me  back  there,  and  I  can  remember 


70      Where  the    Wolves  Dance 

them  saying,  "He  has  gone  mad  with  the 
fever."  Then  I  think  that  in  the  night  I  did 
go  mad  with  the  fever,  for  they  told  me 
afterwards  that  I  howled  and  yelled  and 
screamed  for  my  sword  to  fight  the  gnomes 
and  hobgoblins,  and  the  things  of  hell  and 
air;  but,  as  I  say,  this  I  only  learned  long 
afterwards.  I  strove  with  death  hard- 
handed,  and  I  held  him  in  my  grasp,  and 
he  could  not  throw  me;  and  at  last  the 
wrestle  came  to  an  end,  for  he  slipped 
from  me  and  disappeared,  and  I  lay  on 
the  bed  with  wide-open  eyes,  my  white 
face  making  the  rough  men  who  were  in 
the  room  use  words  of  which  they  were 
ashamed  after,  to  me.  Then  came  my 
wife,  and  her  hand  pulled  the  last  of  the 
fever  from  me ;  but  the  wrestle  had  left  me 
very  tired,  and  I  lay  many  days  knowing 
little.  At  last  I  could  sit  in  the  great 
chair  by  the  window  on  sunny  days,  and 
look  forth  over  the  snows  that  covered 
my  uplands  and  count  the  familiar  trees 
which  stuck  up  black  out  of  the  snow 
drifts.  Then  they  wrapped  me  in  many 
coats,  and  with  a  man  on  each  side  of  me 
I  came  down  into  the  hall  again,  my  wife 


behind  me.  It  was  the  time  of  noonday 
meat,  and  the  men  rose  with  a  hoarse 
shout  as  they  saw  me  and  pressed  for 
ward  with  outspread  hands;  but  my  Lady 
Elsa  was  before  them  in  a  moment,  and 
her  green  robe  shone  strangely  against 
their  skin-clad  bodies.  She  stopped  them 
with  gentle,  firm  words,  asking  them  to 
let  me  get  to  the  great  chair  that  I  might 
sit  down,  for  I  was  come  to  eat  a  bite 
with  them  and  drink  a  sup  of  ale;  and  the 
men  sat  down  with  a  sigh,  such  as  dogs 
give  of  contentment  after  full  feeding. 
So  I  sat  me  down,  and  they  brought  me 
a  tiny  bird  on  a  little  plate  and  I  could 
only  eat  half  of  it.  Then  they  brought 
me  a  great  tankard  of  ale,  and  I  raised 
it  to  my  lips  and  drank  the  half  of  it, 
and  I  felt  the  manhood  rush  to  my  feet, 
and  then  to  my  head  again,  and  through 
my  arms  as  I  put  the  mug  back  on  the 
table,  and  the  men  nodded  to  one  another 
as  saying,  "It  is  well  done  for  a  sick  man." 
Then  slowly  I  finished  the  rest  of  the  ale, 
then  walked  feebly  to  the  fire  and  stood 
there  warming  myself.  Then  the  two  men 
who  stood  by  me  led  me  back  to  my 


72      Where  the    Wolves  Dance 

chamber,  and  my  wife  followed,  laying 
cool  cloths  on  my  head.  Now  every  day 
I  walked  feebly  to  my  meat  in  the  hall, 
but  it  was  not  till  the  third  day  that  I 
began  to  notice  something  strange  about 
the  men.  They  would  look  at  me  with 
a  great  curiosity,  and  some  of  them  with 
seeming  contempt,  at  which  I  said  nothing: 
and  one  of  the  two  men  who  had  been 
my  nurses  in  the  sick  chamber  would  fol 
low  me  even  through  the  gardens,  as  I 
walked  slowly  abroad  with  a  staff  for  the 
keen  frosty  air;  so  that  after  some  weeks 
I  spoke  to  my  lady  about  it,  but  she 
answered  me,  shaking  her  hair  about  her 
shoulders,  that  she  knew  not  these  western 
peasants  as  I  did,  and  that  in  her  father's 
hall  there  had  been  no  suspicions  and  no 
glances  of  double  meaning.  Then  spoke 
I  to  the  man  who  followed  me  so  faith 
fully  as  I  have  said,  but  he  would  an 
swer  nothing  save  that  he  thought  that 
something  was  in  the  air,  and  that  the 
spring  would  bring  new  flowers.  Then 
asked  I  of  young  Heinrick,  who  still 
awaited  the  death  of  Father  Cefron,  with 
those  laughing  eyes  under  the  wild  light 


Where   the    Wolves  Dance     73 

hair;  but  he  laughed  at  me  again,  and 
told  me  that  I  was  a  sick  man  on  one 
side  of  my  head  now  and  suspected 
everybody,  and  that  I  should  send  for  a 
physician  to  plaster  me  —  if  he  could 
find  the  side.  Now  old  Father  Cefron 
seemed  to  have  dried  into  one  of  his 
own  parchments,  and  his  hide  wrinkled, 
and  almost  rattled,  as  he  walked.  Though 
he  came  to  eat  with  us  in  the  hall  on 
holy  days,  and  said  long  prayers  with 
somewhat  worldly  warnings  after,  yet  he 
would  on  most  days  eat  in  his  own  cham 
ber,  and  that  of  the  least  and  coarsest, 
and  would  drink  only  of  the  ice-cold 
water  from  the  well.  I  went  to  him  at 
last  and  questioned  him,  and  asked  him  if 
he  had  noticed  the  glances  cast  upon  me, 
and  the  whispering  and  the  sudden  ceas 
ing  of  the  women's  tongues  when  I  came 
into  the  room,  but  he  answered  "No!"  that 
he  had  noticed  none  of  these  things,  for 
he  was  too  much  taken  up  in  battles  and 
kings  and  the  histories  of  nations,  to  see 
aught  that  passed  about  him;  and  then 
he  told  me  of  the  ancient  days,  and  of 
the  mighty,  warm,  strange,  empires  of  the 


74      Where   the    Wolves  Dance 

south  and  east,  and  spoke  a  hundred 
names  of  battles  and  knew  every  half- 
month  of  the  history  of  the  Church;  and 
so  I  left  him,  comforted  with  learning, 
and  went  and  sat  and  looked  out  on  the 
snow,  and  thought  of  all  that  he  had  said. 

The  acts  of  the  night  that  broke  my 
life  were  short  and  quick,  yet  they  are 
too  long  for  the  telling;  still  I  will  try, 
for  without  them  you  will  not  under 
stand  the  strange  end  of  this  tale  by  the 
grey  wolves. 

It  was  the  next  night  after  this,  and  I 
had  sat  late  in  the  hall,  just  beginning 
now  to  find  strength  enough  to  think 
of  what  I  should  do  with  my  lands  and 
cattle  when  the  soft  weather  and  spring- 
tune  came  at  last.  Sighing  and  putting 
these  thoughts  away  from  me  as  some 
thing  too  far  off  to  be  yet  of  use,  I  rose 
and  through  the  darkened  hall  passed 
through  the  tapestried  doorway  and  up 
the  dimly-lighted  stair,  where  the  candles 
were  distant,  to  my  wife's  room,  before 
which  hung  a  curtain  that  I  had  bought 
her  in  the  Port  of  Swenborg  from  a  ship 
that  had  come  from  the  east  countries, 


Where   the    Wolves  Dance     75 

and  as  I  raised  the  curtain  in  my  hand, 
seeing  by  the  faint  light  of  one  candle 
high  on  the  wall  behind  me  the  great 
oak  panels  of  her  familiar  door,  I  stopped. 
I  stood  still,  the  curtain  in  my  hand,  and 
the  light  flickered  over  the  saints'  heads 
carved  on  the  oaken  panels,  and  over  my 
head.  At  the  arch  of  the  doorway  stood 
an  oak  figure  of  a  saint  only  the  project 
ing  edges  of  whose  robe  and  face  could  be 
seen  in  the  candle-light.  I  stood  there 
while  the  candle  blew  and  flamed ;  I  heard 
its  dripping  on  the  floor ;  I  glanced  once 
toward  the  staircase,  where  the  descend 
ing  uncertain  lights  led  down  into  the 
dusk  and  darkness.  Somewhere  in  the 
distance  outside  the  hall  I  heard  a  man 
singing  in  a  coarse  voice,  then  his  com 
rades  joined  in  the  chorus,  and  I  heard 
their  "skaals."  I  stood  there  holding  the 
curtain  while  the  stairs  creaked  mysteri 
ously  as  to  the  ears  of  a  weary  and  sick 
man,  and  while,  through  the  window 
near  me,  curtaining  clouds  flitted  past  the 
face  of  the  moon  as  she  looked  down  on 
the  infinite  purity  of  the  untrod  white 
below. 


76      Where  the    Wolves  Dance 

Then  I  dropped  the  curtain,  and  stealing 
down  the  stairs  like  a  thief  in  my  own 
house,  I  came  again  into  the  great  hall, 
and  I  went  and  took  down  my  sword  from 
its  place,  and  I  sat  me  down  in  the  great 
arm  -  chair  piling  the  cushions  around 
me,  with  my  sword  across  the  arms 
and  my  hands  resting  on  its  sheath. 
At  last  the  dawn  came  faintly;  then 
a  long  stain  of  yellow  light  struck  across 
the  ribbed  and  worn  floor;  then  for  a 
moment,  a  glorious  red  glowed  through 
the  windows,  and  then  this  faded  and  the 
ashes  of  the  dead  fire,  and  the  broken 
meats  that  strewed  the  table,  and  the 
tankards  that  lay  on  the  floor,  sprang 
out  under  the  truthful  day.  Then  began 
to  come  in  the  women  to  carry  out  the 
things  of  last  night,  and  when  they  saw 
me  sitting  there  alone,  they  curtseyed  and 
looked  frightened  and  would  have  turned 
back,  but  I  spoke  to  them  quietly  to  clear 
the  floor  and  build  up  the  fire,  for  it  was 
a  cold  morning  and  the  men  must  have 
good  meat;  and  after  a  while  came  in 
some  ragged  boys  carrying  bunches  of 
branches  and  some  hauling  great  bundles 


Where  the    Wolves  Dance     77 

of  logs  with  roots,  and  these  they  rolled 
into  the  fireplace  piling  the  branches 
above  them.  Then  one  of  the  women, 
bringing  a  sack  of  dry  leaves  arranged 
them  carefully  among  the  branches  and 
under  the  places  where  the  bark  of  the 
logs  was  rough.  Then,  with  a  flint  and 
steel,  an  old  woman  knelt  and  touched 
the  dry  leaves  into  a  flame  that  was  dull 
in  a  moment.  The  branches  caught,  and 
crackling,  sent  ends  of  flaming  twigs  wild 
up  the  chimney.  Then  at  last  the  great 
logs  at  the  back  began  to  smoke,  and  soon 
their  bark  caught  fire,  and  their  chopped 
ends  played  with  the  eager  flame,  so  all 
the  hall  was  warmed  and  a  thin  smoke 
sailing  up  about  the  rafters.  Then  came 
they  with  great  hooks  that  were  made 
fast  to  turning  cranes  driven  in  the  fire 
place  wall,  and  on  these  hooks  were  sides 
of  deer  and  legs  of  sheep,  with  pans  below 
and  ladles  that  no  richness  might  be  lost, 
and  thick  brown  cakes  were  piled  along 
the  table-centre  in  a  row;  and  now  four 
men  came  rolling  in  two  casks  of  un- 
broached  beer,  and  these  they  set  below 
the  table's  edge  down  at  the  end.  The 


women  lifted  a  great  cauldron  on  to  the 
fire,  that  glowed  like  some  sprites'  cauldron 
of  black-art ;  it  held  fowls  and  green  things 
floating  in  the  midst,  the  gravy  sizzing 
at  the  sides.  Then  the  old  woman  who 
had  lit  the  fire  went  to  the  doorway 
and  took  down  a  great  sea-shell  that 
hung  there  and  she  blew  a  hateful  blast 
that  broke  the  very  air,  and  all  the  men 
came  trooping  to  their  meat. 

That  morn  was  the  holy  morn  of  Easter, 
and  Cefroii  came  to  share  our  meat,  his 
elbow  sideways  over  Heinrick's  shoulder. 
My  wife  came  later,  and  was  blessed 
and  sat.  When  Father  Cefron  had  done 
his  prayers,  and  given  his  pious  warnings 
to  the  men,  the  food  went  from  the 
table  in  a  turn  of  the  hand,  for  the 
morning  was  very  cold  and  the  men  were 
hungry  and  the  ale  warm  from  the  fire, 
where  the  men  placed  it.  It  flowed  down 
thirsty  throats  like  strong  streams  into 
caverns.  When  all  had  eaten  and  turned 
their  stools  apart  from  the  board  and 
leant  their  backs  thereon  or  stretched 
their  legs  and  arms  in  full  content,  I  rose 
from  my  great  chair  at  the  head  of  all 


Where  the    Wolves  Dance     79 

the  table  of  my  house,  and  with  no  word 
to  her  who  was  my  wife,  I  pointed  and 
I  spoke  to  Heinrich  quietly: 

"You  will  meet  me  in  holmgang,  in 
the  cleared  snow,  before  the  hall's  great 
door,  when  the  sun  is  even  overhead,  and 
you  will  light  me  till  you  are  dead,  or 
I  am  dead." 

He  rose  slowly  to  his  feet,  his  face 
grew  a  dark  red  and  his  eyes  seemed  to 
go  back  under  his  brows  in  his  anger.  He 
said  no  word  but  stood  there  steadily  look 
ing  at  me.  I  seemed  to  feel  his  question 
how  much  I  knew,  and  with  one  glance  at 
Father  Cefron's  lifted  claw-like  hand,  and 
one  glance  at  the  white  face  of  Elsa,  who 
was  my  wife,  I  answered  in  a  low  voice : 

"I  stood  outside  the  door  of  Elsa,  my 
wife,  last  night,  after  the  moon  had  risen, 
and  I  held  the  curtain,  and  I  listened  to 
the  voices,  and  I  listened  for  a  long  time, 
and  then  I  came  away." 

There  was  a  sudden  tearing  of  cloth, 
and  a  flutter  behind  me,  and  looking  I 
saw  Elsa,  who  was  my  wife,  fall  through 
the  doorway  which  led  from  the  banquet- 
ing-hall.  Then  young  Heinrich  turned 


so      Where  the    Wolves  Dance 

the  broadness  of  his  back  to  me  and 
stood  a  moment  his  right  hand  to  his 
chin.  Then  he  came  to  his  place  at  the 
board  again  and  sat  down  and  began 
to  eat;  but  as  he  raised  the  first  mouth 
ful  of  meat  to  his  lips,  he  nodded  to  me, 
as  to  a  horse  -  cleaner.  I  sat  down  and 
drank,  for  I  would  eat  no  more,  while 
Father  Cefron  wept  the  tears  of  a  very 
old  man  in  a  corner,  laughing  some 
times,  and  then  raising  his  hand  and 
seeming  to  curse  us  in  laughing.  The 
men  sat  silent  with  their  brows  drawn 
down.  Only  there  was  a  smile  on  some 
of  their  faces  when  they  looked  at  me — 
a  heavy  smile  of  kindness. 

As  the  shades  grew  shorter  and  we 
could  hear  the  sound  of  the  swish  of 
the  brooms  in  the  snow  outside  the  door, 
Father  Cefron  regained  his  senses,  and 
rising,  and  tottering  toward  me,  and 
grasping  each  shoulder  with  a  clutching 
hand,  he  tried  to  shake  me,  murmuring 
curses  on  the  old  gods  meanwhile  and 
sending  them  all  to  Hell  in  Latin  and 
Danish.  Then  he  began  to  blame  me, 
and  though  he  did  not  curse  me  as  he 


Where  the    Wolves  Dance     81 

had  done  the  gods,  yet  he  so  poured  out 
words  that  I  had  need  to  stop  my  ears 
to  get  away  from  their  cold  reasoning. 
Then  he  spoke  for  a  long  time  on  the 
hereafter,  and  told  me  the  stories  of  the 
saints,  and  then  he  cursed  the  devil  and 
his  works,  and  then  he  prayed  for  me. 
Then  rising,  he  commanded  us  both  by 
name,  his  hands  raised  in  the  air  and 
his  white  sleeves  falling  back  from  his 
bony  forearms,  to  leave  this  holmgang 
or  else  we  were  cursed.  He  sank  upon 
his  knees  and  prayed  to  us,  and  then 
the  shadow  from  a  tall,  gaunt  tree  that  I 
was  watching  from  the  window  touched 
its  foot,  and  lifting  my  sword  I  turned 
to  where  young  Heinrick  sat,  his  deep 
brows  wrinkled  and  his  hair  pulled  down, 
and  walked  to  where  he  stood.  He  did  not 
move.  I  reached  and  touched  him  with 
my  sheathed  sword.  Slowly  he  got  up, 
and  turning  from  me  he  went  to  the 
wall  where  his  fair  rapier  hung.  Then 
he  came  back  to  where  I  stood,  and 
stopped.  We  stood  so  for  a  little  while ; 
then  calling  to  one  of  the  men  who  stood 
near,  I  cried  hoarsely,  "Touch  him  with 
F 


82      Where  the    Wolves  Dance 

the  spit,"  and  I  could  see  the  red  of  the 
back  of  his  neck  fail  into  whiteness  as 
he  went  before  me  striding  fast  dowrn 
the  hall.  I  turned  when  we  got  to  the 
doorway.  Far  away,  by  my  great  chair, 
knelt  old  Father  Cefron,  his  head  covered 
with  the  sleeves  of  his  robe,  and  by  the 
fireplace  three  or  four  women  were  cry 
ing  with  their  faces  in  the  corner. 

It  was  a  short  holnigang.  When  we 
were  ready  I  rushed  him  quickly,  for  I 
had  my  old  heavy  sword  and  his  thing 
was  light;  but  he  sprang  aside  from  me, 
and  my  sword  whizzed  past  his  shoulder. 
Then  I  turned  and  rushed  him  again,  and 
again  he  sprang  aside,  his  sword  brushing 
my  hair;  and  again  I  rushed  him,  and 
again  he  jumped  aside,  this  time  he  struck 
me  through  the  right  forearm.  So  it  went 
on  till  the  shadows  began  to  creep  a  little 
way  from  the  trees,  and  I  was  very  bloody 
and  he  had  but  one  hurt;  and  then  as 
I  drew  back  to  hit  him,  caring  little  for 
myself,  his  sword  was  through  me,  and  I 
fell  and  kicked  up  the  snow,  then  turned 
on  my  back.  Then  suddenly  I  was  still 
and  men  pressed  around  me,  saying,  "He 


is  dead";  but,  I  saw  with  my  open  eyes, 
Heinrick  leap  upon  the  ice-crust,  and  with 
his  naked  sword  cutting  the  air  as  he 
ran  in  rage  or  wantonness,  he  fled,  and 
was  so  far  away  that  my  men  stood 
there  staring.  Then  they  carried  me  back 
to  the  banqueting-hall  and  through  into  my 
own  chamber,  and  as  we  passed  the  kneel 
ing  figure  of  Father  Cefron,  I  heard  the 
men  who  carried  me  answer  to  the  women 
by  the  fire,  who  whispered  to  them,  "  Dead 
on  Easter  morning,  'tis  an  awful  day;  but 
old  men  die,  and  so  has  Father  Cefron — 
though  he  was  a  learned  man." 

Late  that  day  the  women  came  and 
washed  me  in  my  chamber  and  swathed 
me  in  white  folds,  and  they  pulled  down 
my  eyes  so  that  I  could  not  see,  and  they 
pushed  up  my  jaws,  but  it  seemed  I  needed 
not  to  breathe ;  and  that  night  three  women 
and  a  man  sat  with  me  all  night,  and  the 
next  night  after  that  two  women,  and  the 
next  night  after  that  one  man,  he  who  had 
followed  me  through  the  gardens  before  I 
had  found  about  Elsa,  who  was  my  wife ; 
and  on  the  fourth  morning,  late  after  the 


sunrise,  they  lifted  me  and  carried  me 
forth  upon  their  shoulders,  a  great  white 
cloth  with  fringes  hanging  over  me;  and 
then  I  heard  the  tramp  of  many  feet,  and 
women  crying,  and  the  consoling  tones  of 
men,  and  I  heard  the  pipe  of  children 
in  the  distance,  and  the  crackling  of  the 
snow  beneath  the  feet  of  the  four  men  who 
bore  me;  and  at  last  they  laid  me  down 
upon  the  stones  and  they  pulled  down 
the  cloth  from  my  face  and  then  I  heard 
a  voice  speaking  very  low — the  voice  of 
Elsa,  who  had  been  my  wife,  "Peace  be 
to  thee  where  thou  art";  and  I  tried  to 
turn  from  the  cold  breath — for  I  could 
feel  the  cold  as  I  could  feel  the  warmth  of 
that  breath — but  I  could  not,  for  my  flesh 
was  dead  but  my  spirit  lived  within  me. 
Then  they  carried  me  into  some  dank- 
smelling  place ;  I  knew  they  had  to  stoop, 
for  I  could  hear  their  shoulders  scrump 
along  the  passage,  they  laid  me  down  on 
a  shelf  of  stone  and  took  the  white  thing 
quite  away,  and  then  they  left  me,  and 
then  I  heard  a  sound  of  labouring  at 
the  door,  and  then  a  crash. 
Slowly  in  the  darkness  I  fell  away,  but 


Where  the    Wolves  Dance     85 

the  life  that  runs  through  the  body 
gathered  itself  away  from  the  fallen  parts, 
and  when  I  was  brown  and  thin  my  self 
burnt  strong,  and  then  I  heard  a  note 
of  freedom  in  the  dark.  It  was  like 
music,  as  my  body  went,  and  as  my  legs 
and  arms  became  slim  sticks,  and  as  the 
years  made  my  hands  and  feet  not  like 
human  hands  and  feet,  and  as  the  inside 
of  my  body  dried  and  fell;  and  one  spring 
and  summer  passed  and  my  spirit  grew 
ever  nearer  its  birth,  I  heard  the  sound 
less  music  breathing  freedom  night  and 
day.  At  last  my  brain  grew  hard  as  my 
heart  had  grown  years  before,  and  all  the 
parts  of  me  decayed  and  shrivelled  up 
until  I  was  a  brown,  slim,  wrinkled,  hide 
that  held  some  bones :  no  more.  At  last 
a  great  storm  shook  the  place  one  night, 
and  snow  came  in  and  wind  and  rain, 
and  then  my  spirit  was  freed  at  last ; 
for,  sagging  from  its  place,  a  rock  fell 
inwards  where  I  lay,  and  my  brown  bones 
were  crushed  and  scattered. 

Then  I  rose  through  the  storm  of  the 
night,  and  I  held  to  the  tops  of  the  trees, 
and  I  dropped  and  the  water  drenched 


86      Where  the    Wolves  Dance 

me  as  it  rushed  past  the  banks  of  the 
streams,  and  I  seized  branches  in  the 
moonlight  and  threw  them  aloft  and  had 
joy  to  see  the  wind  carry  them.  Then  I 
came  to  myself  again,  and  coming  to  the 
earth,  tramped  through  the  wood,  to  give 
me  customs  as  live  mortals  have;  for  I 
was  alive,  having  been  killed,  and  though 
my  body  was  dead  and  myself  invisible  but 
potent  with  hard  grasp  of  hand,  and  flight 
in  air,  and  strength  of  foot,  I  walked  on 
the  earth  a  thing  that  no  God  surely 
ever  wished  to  make  in  his  creation.  I 
was  a  man  with  all  a  man's  forces  and 
all  a  man's  heat,  but  I  was  as  air  to 
everything,  and  I  held  myself  as  I  pleased. 
Soon  I  came  to  the  old  hall,  and  entering 
through  the  great  door — for  doors  were 
nothing  to  me,  yet  I  could  open  and  shut 
them  with  my  hands — I  found  the  banquet 
ing  hall  most  desolate  and  only  some  few 
seats  now  near  the  fire;  and  passing  on 
into  the  upper  rooms  I  heard  deep  snor 
ing  coming  from  one  of  them,  and  look 
ing  in,  I  saw  a  young  man  that  I  did 
not  know,  who  lay  and  slept  beside  a 
great  wolf-dog.  The  wolf-dog  turned  and 


Where  the    Wolves  Dance     87 

raised  its    head  and    howled,  and    I  crept 
down  the  stairs  again  and  out  and  on. 

So  all  that  night  I  journeyed  toward 
the  shore,  and  as  the  morning  broke  the 
far  blue  ice  stretched  before  me  and  I 
travelled  on.  I  travelled  on  over  the  ice- 
cakes,  shoving  on  with  my  rusty  sword 
where  water  was;  and  so  from  crack 
to  crack  and  block  to  block,  I  crept 
until  1  was  half-way  across ;  then  I  sat 
down  and  laughed  and  nearly  fell  back 
into  the  water,  for  the  ice-block  tipped. 
I  had  forgotten  that  the  air  was  mine, 
and  that  as  the  birds,  or  as  the  winged 
men  and  women  that  the  priests  have 
in  pictures,  I  could  go  where  I  would; 
so  I  rose  from  the  ice,  and  the  wind 
sang  across  my  rusty  sword-hilt,  and  the 
air  was  keen,  so  that  I  opened  wide 
my  mouth  and  crossed  the  ice  to  land. 
So  in  three  days  I  saw  a  great  smoke 
rising,  and  a  low  stone  hill  that  lay  be 
tween  the  last  snow  and  the  bend  of  the 
sky.  This  I  passed  over  in  the  night 
time,  and  the  lights  shone  there  for 
miles  from  the  city  and  then  I  went  on 
through  the  moonless  night,  until  a  great 


88      Where  the    Wolves  Dance 

hall  stood  against  the  sea  there.  This  I 
knew  was  Elsinore,  and  so  I  stopped  and 
rested  in  a  pack  of  straw  that  lay  in  a 
stable  near  the  castle's  rearward  gate. 
The  tempest  howled  around  me  and  the 
straw  whistled  as  if  for  fear,  but  I  lay 
quiet,  for  all  long  cares  had  quite  dropped 
away. 

The  next  day  and  the  next  night  too, 
I  lay  and  rested  there  in  a  strange  con 
tent  that  hurt  me  sometimes  when  I 
felt  it  most;  but  on  the  third  night, 
having  gained  great  strength,  and  ground 
my  sword  —  when  lights  gleamed  down 
from  the  castle  windows  and  Elsinore 
was  gay  for  some  king's  whim — I  went 
across  the  moat  and  through  the  gates, 
and  by  the  side-door  of  the  castle  to 
where  a  sleeping  soldier  stood,  his  lantern 
flaring.  I  entered  into  a  long  corridor, 
and  passed  down  to  a  door  that  just 
shone  at  the  other  end.  I  opened  it,  and 
came  into  a  small,  gay  room  where  three 
young  pages  sat,  who  cried  out  at  the 
draught  from  the  opened  door:  they  did 
not  see  me.  and  I  kept  my  sword  away  from 
them,  though  I  remembered  that,  I  being 


Where  the    Wolves  Dance     89 

invisible,  they  could  see  as  well  on  which 
ever  side  of  me  I  held  it.  Then  opened 
I  the  other  door:  at  once  the  full 
lights  blazed  upon  me,  and  the  hum  and 
sweet  wail  of  dance-music  came,  with 
smell  of  flowers,  and  I  wondered  as 
the  old  flowers  sent  me  their  greetings 
if  he  was  here,  as  I  thought  he  would 
be.  Then  stealing  through  the  room, 
through  the  dancers,  I  passed  into  a 
corner  where  sat  some  young  tired  men 
who  looked  like  sleeping.  He  was  not 
there.  I  passed  between  the  dancers 
once  again,  and  came  into  a  corner 
where  there  sat  some  foreign-looking 
men  with  light  -  haired  dames— bowing 
and  paying  them  compliments,  I  think.  I 
passed  between  the  dancers  then  again, 
and  passed  before  where  sat  the  king 
and  queen  both  weary-looking;  yet  with 
quick  eyes,  I  could  not  find  him.  Then 
the  music  ceased  and  the  dancers  went 
back  to  their  seats  once  more.  Then 
passed  I  down  the  middle  of  the  hall  into 
the  farthest  corner,  where  there  sat  a 
group  of  ladies  speaking  in  low  voice, 
and  men  who  leaned  and  talked  and 


90      Where  the    Wolves  Dance 

laughed  and  grinned,  and  as  I  passed 
through  the  crowd  I  saw  the  face  of  Him, 
and  all  the  floor  trembled.  He  sat  back 
in  the  corner,  very  old:  his  long  white 
hair  fell  on  his  sloping  shoulders;  his 
thin  white  hands  were  clasped  upon  his 
knees  and  his  thin  legs  were  thrust  in 
velvet  boots  from  which  the  fur  stuck 
out.  He  had  strange  gold  things  on  his 
chest  and  front,  and  a  short  beard  that 
straggled  round  the  chin,  but  his  long 
hair  fell  over  it;  and  every  moment  he 
would  lean  forward  and  mutter  to  the 
women  near  him  some  tale  of  woman's 
talk  forgotten  when  half  finished.  I 
stood  looking,  in  a  corner  where  the 
stair  ran  up  to  the  musician's  gallery,  I 
stood  beneath  the  stair  where  I  could 
see  his  face  from  out  the  shadow  and 
where  no  one  could  see  the  sword,  and 
there  I  stood  and  I  hated  him  until  there 
was  a  sound  of  rustling  in  the  hall  and 
of  men's  feet  upon  the  smooth  wood 
floor;  and  as  I  turned  to  look  I  saw  the 
king  and  queen  rise  and  go  out,  and  then 
after  a  little  time  the  others  also  went, 
and  nearly  last,  he  rose,  A  man  had 


come  to  him  from  the  pages'  room  and 
now  held  him  under  one  arm  as  he 
tottered  across  the  floor.  I  followed 
slowly,  my  old  sword  tight  grasped.  At 
last  we  reached  the  little  gay-draped  door. 
The  pages'  room  was  empty,  and  the  cor 
ridors  laughed  to  our  heel  taps  as  if  mock 
ing  the  dancers.  And  so  we  went  out. 
There  was  a  great  chair  there  held  by 
two  men ;  into  this  he  went ;  but  I  had 
my  own  mind  of  where  to  go  so  my  old 
rusty  sword  was  through  the  back  of  the 
hind  chairman  in  a  moment's  time,  and 
as  he  fell,  the  forward  man  ran  round  to 
try  the  door  again,  crying  out;  but  I 
swung  my  sword  and  hit  him  in  the  side, 
and  the  old  blade  grided  in  so  that  the 
stuff  came  out,  and  he  fell  down  dead  on 
the  steps.  When  the  noise  these  men 
were  making  had  stopped,  I  went  and 
opened  the  door  and  sat  me  down  in 
side  with  Him,  and  in  a  very  few  soft 
words  told  Him  who  I  was;  but  being  so 
old  He  could  not  understand  though  He 
was  very  frightened  and  knelt  down  trem 
bling  in  the  bottom  of  the  chair.  Then  I 
asked  Him  where  were  horses,  and  He  told 


92      Where   the    Wolves  Dance 

me,  mumbling,  and  I  went  to  a  farmer's 
stable  and  took  a  horse  out,  first  feeding 
him  well  and  giving  him  drink ;  then  on 
this  horse  I  put  Him  and  wrapped  Him  in 
the  horse -cleaner's  old  rugs  and  cloths. 
Then  mounting  up  behind  him,  I  guided 
the  beast  to  the  main  road  that  runs 
along  the  water,  and  for  many  hours  we 
travelled,  jolting,  in  the  darkness.  Then 
the  moon  rose,  and  all  the  world  was 
silver,  and  the  sea  lay  black  except 
where  the  sword -blade  from  the  moon 
was  laid  across  it.  The  moon  was  high. 
It  was  as  light  as  day  when  I  turned 
inland  from  the  sea  at  last,  and  under 
neath  great  trees,  and  past  small  hills 
that  rose  and  left  dark  hollows  where 
drifts  lay,  we  went.  It  was  as  light 
as  the  light  of  day,  when  all  the  hills 
seemed  to  rise  up  about  us  in  their 
whiteness,  and  the  trees  stood  black  on 
the  summits,  white  on  their  tops,  and 
casting  huge  shadows  that  moved. 

"Here,"  I  said;  and  getting  down  from 
the  horse,  I  turned  to  Him  and  lifted 
Him  down  also.  "This  is  the  place,"  I 
said;  and  taking  Him  under  the  arms  as 


Where  the    Wolves  Dance     93 

I  had  seen  the  serving -man  do,  I  led 
Him.  down  into  the  valley  where  the 
snow  did  not  break  to  our  tread,  and 
standing  there  in  the  valley,  holding  Him 
under  the  arms,  I  called  aloud  three  times 
the  cry  of  a  wolf.  For  a  long  time  we 
stood  there  in  silence  till  the  cry  had 
long  echoed  away;  then  from  the  right 
of  me  there  slid  a  white  wolf  from  the 
hill-top.  He  slid  to  the  bottom  of  the 
hill  a  little  way  from  me,  and  then  sat 
on  his  haunches  and  looked  at  us  with 
his  red  eyes.  Then  came  three  more 
wolves,  slowly,  over  the  snow;  they 
came  down  from  under  the  beech  trees 
that  were  in  front  of  us,  and  these 
also  sat  down  on  their  haunches  and 
stayed  looking  at  us  with  their  eyes. 
Then  came  one  wolf  more  from  in 
front  of  me,  who  did  as  the  others 
had  done.  Then  others  came,  till 
there  were  almost  thirty  of  them,  and 
they  sat  and  stared  at  us;  but  whether 
they  could  see  me  I  know  not.  The 
moon  was  just  over  us,  and  neither  He 
nor  the  wolves  cast  any  shadow.  I 
turned  and  took  Him  in  my  arms,  and 


94      Where  the    Wolves  Dance 

holding  Him  to  me,  I  whispered  in  a 
low  voice,  "You  will  fight  holmgang 
here  with  me  to-night."  He  did  not  un 
derstand,  and  His  fine  white  hair  lifted 
a  little  in  the  breeze.  From  above  on 
the  hill -top  looked  the  horse  that  we 
had  ridden,  stupidly;  I  had  tied  him  to 
a  branch  of  beech,  and  the  wolves  sat 
round  making  no  noise  except  the  whis 
pering  and  the  brushing  of  their  tails  in 
the  snow-glaze.  I  still  held  Him  in  my 
arms.  "You  will  fight  now,"  I  said,  "be 
fore  the  moon  casts  its  shadow,  and  then 
I  will  leave  You";  and  he  shuddered  a 
little,  and  shook  his  head,  this  time  half- 
understanding.  I  held  Him  close,  pressing 
the  horse  -  cleaner's  cloths  about  Him. 
"  You  must  take  out  your  sword,  and 
you  must  fight  with  me  —  you  must  fight 
with  me  here,  now." 

"Why?"  He  murmured  feebly,  His  head 
sinking  on  my  shoulder. 

"  Because  I  say  it ! "  I  answered  in  the 
same  low  voice;  and  with  that  I  held 
Him  from  me  and  began  to  untie  the 
cloths.  When  He  was  free,  I  drew  my 
self  apart  and  unsheathed  my  old  sword, 


Where  the    Wolves  Dance     95 

leaving  the  belt  and  scabbard  lying  on 
the  snow  by  one  of  the  wolves.  Now  I 
went  up  and  whispered  to  the  trembling 
figure  again,  "  You  shall  fight ! "  I  whis 
pered,  still  in  a  low  voice. 

"  I  will  not  fight ! "  He  said. 

"  You  will  fight  for  your  honour  ! " 

"  I  will  not  fight ! "   He  replied. 

"  You  will  fight  for  your  name." 

"  I  will  not  fight,"  He  said  once  again. 

Then  I  stopped  for  a  moment.  Then  I 
went  up  to  Him  slowly,  and  whispering 
to  Him,  "  I  was  the  husband  of  Elsa,  and 
you  broke  my  life  when  you  were  young, 
and  now  that  you  are  old  and  I  am 
dead,  I  shall  kill  you  here  where  the 
wolves  stand " ;  and  with  that,  lightly, 
that  I  might  not  strike  Him  down,  I  hit 
Him  on  the  cheek. 

For  an  instant  He  stared  at  me,  one 
side  of  His  face  white  as  the  other  grew 
crimson,  and  His  old  eyes  flashed  for  a 
moment,  and  His  shoulders  squared  them 
selves  ;  but  His  arms,  after  one  quick 
motion,  hung  still  at  His  sides,  and  I 
heard  Him  murmur  again,  "I  will  not 
fight ! "  Then  a  wrath  seized  me,  and 


96      Where  the    Wolves  Dance 

swinging  my  sword  on  high  I  stepped 
slowly  towards  Him  and  let  my  point 
drop  back  slowly  over  my  shoulder  till 
it  hung  down  to  the  snow,  then  wheeling 
suddenly  and  bringing  it  forward  with  a 
shortening  of  the  arms  and  a  yell  that 
echoed  through  the  empty  forest,  I  hit 
Him  with  the  rusty  blade  where  the  neck 
branches  to  go  to  the  shoulder,  and  my 
blade  travelled  till  it  struck  the  hip-bone 
on  the  other  side.  Then  with  my  foot 
on  His  waist,  I  drew  my  sword  out  and 
wiped  it  on  the  snow ;  wiping  it  many 
times  till  it  was  quite  clean,  then  pick 
ing  up  the  sheath  and  buckling  the  belt 
around  me,  I  covered  my  sword  and 
passed  between  two  of  the  wolves  and 
up  the  hill,  and  away  to  where  the 
horse  was  tied.  The  moon  fell  down 
straight  into  the  valley,  and  as  I  rode 
back  again  the  way  I  had  come  under 
the  dark  trees  and  past  the  glittering 
hill-tops,  I  heard  behind  me  melancholy 
howling  coming  from  the  place  where 
the  wolves  danced. 


Where  the    Wolves  Dance     97 

This  is  all  of  my  tale,  except  that  I 
stabled  the  horse  before  dawn  at  the 
farmer's,  and  gave  him  food  and  drink, 
and  then  walked  by  the  sea  road  as  the 
dawn  broke. 


G 


THE    SACKILEGE 


THE  SACRILEGE 

THE  hall  was  raised  at  one  end  into 
a  square  stage,  where  the  smoke  would 
gather  when  the  men  sat  late  near  the 
fire,  and  from  this  stage  two  doors 
opened  at  the  back  corners.  One  of 
these  doors  was  curtained  and  led  to 
the  apartments  of  the  men  of  the  castle. 
The  other  was  carved  with  strange  images, 
and  by  it  stood  a  long  square  table  of 
carved  oak.  We  men  sat  below  at  the 
long  board  which  ran  the  length  of  the 
hall.  It  was  my  lord  and  the  monks 
who  lived  upon  us  who  sat  upon  the 
raised  staging;  the  monks  eating  at  their 
carved  table  apart. 

It  was  after  the  dinner,  and  Father 
Peter  rose  in  his  place.  Motioning  to 
his  followers  to  pass  through  the  door 
that  led  to  the  chapel,  he  came  and 
bent  and  whispered  to  my  lord,  who  set 
down  his  beer-mug  on  the  instant,  frown- 

101 


102  The  Sacrilege 

ing ;  then,  after  a  moment's  thought  my 
lord  lifted  his  hand  and  spoke  to  us  all 
in  a  loud,  clear  voice: 

"Father  Peter  and  I  would  speak  alone 
in  the  hall.  It  would  please  me  that 
you  men  take  your  beer  on  the  battle 
ments." 

The  men  went  shuffling,  all  but  myself, 
for  I  was  my  lord's  own  man  and  counted 
as  nothing  more  than  his  follower,  doing 
things  which  women  usually  do  for  men, 
for  he  would  have  no  women-folk  about 
him. 

Now  Father  Peter,  folding  his  fat  hands 
across  his  chest,  lowered  his  head  and 
frowned  reflectively.  My  lord  sat  silently 
in  the  great  chair  with  one  leg  over  the 
arm. 

"Lord  Rolf,"  said  Father  Peter  at  last. 

"Yes,  Father  Peter,"  answered  my  lord. 

"Lord  Rolf,  Christian  of  this  castle," 
said  Father  Peter  again. 

"Ay!  Christian,  and  certainly  lord  of 
this  castle,"  answered  my  lord,  smiling. 

Father  Peter  raised  his  head,  and  lifting 
one  arm,  pointed  at  my  lord. 

"I   have    caused   it    that    we   should    be 


The  Sacrilege  103 

alone,  that  I  might  pray  with  you,  for 
you  are  not  so  good  a  Christian  as  I 
would  have  you  be." 

"Yes,"  said  my  lord. 

Then  Father  Peter,  tumbling  to  his 
knees,  prayed  for  a  long  time,  while  I 
standing  by  the  fire,  cursed  his  Latin. 
Then  he  got  up  again  and  coming  to  my 
lord  he  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"Have  you  felt  that  prayer?"  he  said 
in  a  deep  voice. 

"I  have  heard  it,"  said  my  lord  looking 
down. 

"Then  I  will  even  say  something  that 
will  appeal  to  you  in  a  more  militant 
way — something  that  has  been  in  your 
mind  for  a  long  time,  my  lord."  Father 
Peter  became  impressive.  "The  black 
frocks  that  sit  and  bend  over  that  carved 
table  by  that  carved  door  are  a  greater 
nation  than  ever  the  nation  of  Dan- 
mark  will  be,  or  any  nation  will  be, 
until  another  nation  of  such  frocks  rouses 
itself  against  us;  and  so  long  as  we  shall 
hold  the  souls  of  men,  and  their  hopes 
and  fears  of  the  hereafter,  in  our  hands 
as  a  sword,  so  long  shall  we  be  more 


104  The  Sacrilege 

powerful  than  any  sword  forged  by 
gnome  or  fairy." 

Father  Peter,  extending  both  hands  in 
blessing  over  Lord  Rolfs  head,  turned 
hastily  and  went  through  the  door 
that  leads  to  the  chapel.  Now,  this  I 
would  not  stand,  nor  my  lord,  and  we 
dared  not  tell  it  to  the  men  for  fear  of 
violence,  that  the  priests,  who  had  forced 
themselves  upon  us  in  our  house,  and 
built  their  chapel  leaning  against  our 
keep,  should  threaten  us  over  the  tables 
where  they  fed  with  us.  This  had  been 
a  long  time  coming,  for  Christianity  sat 
hard  upon  us.  There  were  no  tortures 
in  the  time  of  Thor  and  Odin;  and,  as 
I  said,  Christianity  sat  grievously  upon 
us. 

Ah!  Well!  To  the  next  scene.  My 
lord  was  in  the  passage  before  Father 
Peter's  room,  and  he  knew  that  Father 
Peter  would  return  alone  from  the 
chapel  after  his  last  devotions,  and 
when  Father  Peter's  dark  bulk  turned 
the  corner  of  the  oak  stair  my  lord 
spoke  to  him  out  of  the  shadow. 

"Father     Peter,    you     have     said    some 


The  Sacrilege  105 

words  to  me  to-night  in  my  hall.  They 
were  not  churchmen's  words." 

Father  Peter  hesitated  a  moment,  then 
throwing  back  his  head: 

"  No,"  he  said ;  "  they  were  words  militant, 
for  the  Church  is  born  militant ;  and  she 
shall  ride  you  as  a  plough-horse.  Let  me 
pass  on  from  my  devotions." 

"No,  Father  Peter,"  said  my  lord  in  a 
quiet  voice,  reaching  one  arm  out  of  the 
shadow.  "You  go  where  you  have  taught 
us  that  there  is  more  devotion  than 
there  is  upon  this  earth.  For  three 
years  you  and  your  crew  have  eaten, 
slept,  and  builded  on  my  lands,  until  now 
my  house  is  but  very  little  my  own." 

Father  Peter  took  a  step  forward,  but 
the  long  white  arm  barred  him  across  his 
thick  throat.  He  strode  one  step  farther 
forward,  pushing  the  arm  aside,  and,  turn 
ing  in  the  direction  of  my  lord's  voice, 
snarled  like  a  dog,  calling  him  long  names 
from  books  I  never  read.  Whether  my 
lord  was  mad,  or  whether  the  humiliation 
of  the  past  three  years  had  hurt  his  heart, 
I  do  not  know,  but  he  reached  both  arms 
around  the  priest,  and  lifting  him  in  the 


106  The  Sacrilege 

air,  flung  him  face-downward  against  the 
window,  where  it  ran  to  the  floor.  I 
went  to  my  lord  and  caught  his  hands 
behind  him.  Then  drawing  long  breaths, 
we  walked  silently  toward  the  black 
form  at  the  window  foot.  Stooping,  I 
put  my  hand  over  its  mouth  and  over 
its  fat  chest.  There  was  a  drawing  up  of 
legs  and  something  like  a  laugh,  deep  in 
the  throat.  Then  Father  Peter  died. 


The  snow  chunked  under  our  weary  feet 
and  our  staffs  were  useless  in  the  thaw, 
and  ever  behind,  when  the  wind  was  still, 
and  when  there  were  no  pines  near  us  to 
whisper  as  of  safety,  we  could  hear  the 
sound  of  the  horses,  and  we  would  look 
at  each  other  and  step  higher,  and  take 
longer  strides  for  a  few  yards.  My  lord 
was  very  weary,  for  he  was  a  man  who 
loved  warmth,  and  he  could  not  bear  the 
cold  of  the  indifferent  sky  above  him  and 
the  unfeeling  purity  of  the  snow  that  lay 
about  us. 

Far  away  was  the  glimmer  of  sea. 
There  was  no  dawn,  but  a  streak  of  yellow 


The  Sacrilege  107 

in  the  east,  that  grew  and  lengthened  and 
widened,  and  then  became  flame-coloured 
and  then  disappeared,  and  a  little  sun 
came  from  the  sea,  but  it  had  no  light 
and  the  snow  had  glimmered  more  under 
the  moon.  There  were  but  two  of  us 
left.  We  had  been  seven  at  first,  but  of 
the  others  three  had  turned  back  and 
two  lay  in  the  snow  on  our  way.  It 
was  the  ninth  day  that  we  had  left  the 
hall;  and  ever  the  men  of  the  Bishop  of 
Lund,  three  hundred  and  fifty  of  them, 
came  after  us  on  their  light  horses,  and 
ever  we  doubled  and  crouched  over  the 
snow,  like  hares  hungered  or  hunted.  At 
night  we  would  make  fires  of  the  pine- 
cones,  and  in  our  helmets  melt  the  snow 
into  water,  lowering  our  helmets  into  the 
snow  again  to  cool  them  afterwards.  We 
had  eaten  all  our  bread,  but  of  fish  we 
had  plenty,  though  I  was  sorry  for  my 
lord.  So  all  that  day  we  hastened,  and 
when  the  night  came  we  lay  back  to  back 
in  a  hollow  of  the  snow  on  a  little  hill 
that  looked  over  a  bay.  The  bay  was 
frozen,  and  I  remember  the  winter  moon 
light  kept  me  awake  as  it  shed  itself 


108  The  Sacrilege 

upward  from  the  ice  into  my  face;  and 
whenever  I  looked  out  over  the  snow- 
sweep,  its  long  white  track  seemed  to 
point  to  where  we  lay.  Deep  into  the 
night,  when  the  sighing  wind  had  ceased 
to  scud  the  drift-snow  into  our  hiding- 
place,  my  lord  turned  over  and  shook  me 
feebly.  "Man!"  he  said;  "he  was  right 
when  he  said  the  Church  was  born  militant, 
and  that  only  a  greater  power  like  itself 
shall  cast  a  shadow  on  men.  We  broken 
clans,  that  call  ourselves  nations,  are  little 
things.  What  shall  I  do?  Tell  me,  what 
shall  I  do?"  I  looked  at  him  in  the 
surprise  of  one  just  waking,  as  he  knelt 
above  me,  one  hand  on  each  shoulder. 
"Man!"  he  said,  again,  shaking  me,  "what 
shall  I  do?  They  are  coming;  I  can  hear 
them  under  the  snow.  I  can  hear  the  ice 
of  the  bay  cracking  to  their  boats,  and  I 
can  hear  the  whispered  warnings  of  the 
pine  trees  when  they  bend  to  the  stirred 
air  of  their  innumerable  breaths.  Man ! 
what  shall  I  do?"  Awake  now,  I  saw 
that  my  lord  was  full  of  terror,  like  a 
child,  and  bringing  him  close  to  me,  I 
rolled  him  in  his  clothes  and  put  him 


The  Sacrilege  109 

deep  in  the  snow  again,  piling  some  of 
my  own  things  over  him,  and  he  slept 
complainingly  and  fitfully  like  a  child 
who  has  been  punished. 

It  was  just  before  the  dawn  when  we 
heard  the  far  -  away  shouting  of  the 
Bishop's  noisy  troop,  and  crawling  to  our 
feet  we  left  our  hole  in  the  snow  and 
crept  down  the  side  of  the  hill  toward 
the  water.  Here  my  lord  thought  it  was 
easier  walking  on  the  ice,  but  soon  we 
heard  the  sound  of  horses  on  the  strand, 
and  as  it  was  a  road  to  them  not  like 
the  snow  above,  we  climbed  again  to 
where  the  deeper  drifts  were  and  passed 
unseen.  So  half  that  day  we  travelled, 
and  twice  they  went  ahead  of  us  going 
by  the  strand,  but  both  times  a  few  horse 
men  only;  so  we  dared  not  turn  back,  for 
we  knew  the  others  were  spread  out  on 
the  uplands.  Late  in  the  afternoon  we 
came  to  the  long  point  of  rock  that 
stretches  from  our  island  towards  the 
mainland,  and  here  my  lord  stopped.  "If 
we  had  a  boat,"  he  said,  trembling  I  think 
with  eagerness ;  then,  pulling  his  grey 
beard,  he  whispered  to  himself  only,  "  Who 


no  The  Sacrilege 

can  fight  against  the  Church, — who  will 
not  fight?"  Then  turned  he  again  and 
went  on  along  the  shore;  and  thus  late 
in  the  evening  we  came  to  a  solitary 
beech  which  rose  from  out  a  hollow  in 
the  hills.  Great  formless  mounds  of  white 
lay  near,  the  fallen  ones  who  had  left 
this  old  tree  lonely;  and  leaning  against 
this  solitary  trunk  we  passed  our  night, 
until  the  coming  of  a  glorious  dawning 
fell  on  our  faces  as  they  lay  against  the 
smooth  beech -bark,  and  awakened  us 
early — I  think  earlier  than  any  of  the 
Bishop's  men  awakened  that  morning,  for 
though  we  waited  to  eat  we  heard  no 
sound  of  their  pursuing  until  nearly  the 
noon-time;  then  from  far  off  came  the 
familiar  thud  of  horses'  hoofs  and  the 
crisp  jingle  of  the  bridle-reins,  in  the  far- 
carrying,  cold,  morning  air. 

It  was  the  next  day  after  this,  when  my 
Lord  Rolf  seemed  to  hesitate,  walking  by 
himself,  telling  even  me  nothing,  and  when 
it  came  to  the  sunset  and  a  cold  yellow 
edged  the  dark  sky  over  the  sea,  and  the 
snow-drifts  looked  ghostly  at  any  distance,  he 
spoke  to  me  after  many  trials  with  himself. 


The  Sacrilege  ill 

"Do  you  know  where  we  are?" 

"No,"  I  said. 

"Do  you    know    that    by    to-morrow    at 
noon  we  shall  have  returned?" 

I  looked  at  him  startled. 

"Returned  to  the  hall?" 

"  Yes,"    he    said ;    "  we    shall    have    been 
round  the  island." 

"And    when   we    shall    have    returned?" 
I  asked. 

My  lord  was  silent.  It  was  not  at 
noon  the  next  day  but  toward  the 
dusk  when  the  darkening  trees  began  to 
seem  familiar,  and  the  coast-line  stretched 
in  remembered  curves,  and  the  ripples 
along  the  icy  beach  seemed  home-like.  In 
the  dusk,  as  we  plodded  crouching  behind 
a  drift  of  snow  that  ran  along  the  hill 
side,  there  rose  before  us  something  gaunt 
and  white  and  very  tall  and  very  still  in 
the  valley  below  us,  and  we  stopped,  for 
we  saw  it  was  a  building:  it  seemed  a 
keep  of  the  old  days  that  they  build  no 
more  now.  So  we  stood  looking,  try 
ing  to  make  out  any  light  near  in  the 
dark  evening.  Suddenly  my  lord  sighed, 
and,  falling  forward  on  his  knees,  he 


112  The  Sacrilege 

put  his  face  down  in  the  snow,  and 
when  I  bent  and  whispered  to  him  he 
only  answered,  "They  have  burnt  it, 
but  the  old  keep  would  not  burn."  It 
was  our  own  hall  that  we  had  come 
back  to.  So,  the  next  morning  we  struck 
inland  again,  from  the  hill-top,  thinking 
to  find  refuge  in  a  forest  of  leafless 
oaks  whose  rattling  branches  glittered 
in  the  pale  sunlight ;  and  when  we 
reached  it  my  lord  sat  down  on  a 
great  root  of  one  of  the  trees  and 
would  go  no  farther  into  the  forest.  So 
I  stayed  by  him  all  day  feeding  him  on 
the  last  of  our  fish,  and  making  him 
cold  water  to  drink,  for  though  he 
shivered  very  much  he  drank  always. 
Thus  it  was  that  midway  between  the 
noon  and  the  evening  there  came  three 
men,  cross -bowmen,  suddenly,  from  over 
the  hillside,  and  seeing  us  they  stopped; 
then  after  a  moment's  speaking  one  with 
another  they  ran  forward,  their  cross-bows 
stretched. 

My  lord  was  sitting  dejectedly  at  the 
foot  of  the  ice-sheaved  oak,  and  I  was 
cooling  water  for  him  in  my  helmet. 


The  Sacrilege  113 

The  three  men  ran  toward  us,  shouting. 
My  lord  heard  the  sound  and  looked  up ; 
then  rising  slowly  to  his  feet,  he  hesi 
tated  a  moment  and  unbuckled  his 
sword,  at  which  the  three  cross-bowmen 
stopped,  for  they  were  not  great  men. 
Then  my  lord  spoke  to  me,  half  turning: 
"You  have  followed  me  faithfully,  though 
to  a  bad  end,  and  I  can  give  you  nothing; 
nor  do  you  want  it;  but  I  will  not  be 
killed  by  Bishop's  men.  My  fathers  knew 
how  to  die,  and  their  Gods  took  them,  so 

I and  my  Gods  will    take  me."     Then 

ramming  the  hilt  and  the  upper  part  of 
his  sword  into  the  snow,  my  lord  fell 
over  it  awkwardly  and  lay  groaning, 
the  sword  through  him.  All  this  before 
I  could  do  aught  but  cry  out. 

Well Then    came  the  bowmen,  who 

shot  him  so  that,  after  a  few  minutes,  he 
was  dead  indeed,  and  they  brought  his 
body  and  his  sword  down  to  the  snow- 
covered  keep  in  the  valley,  where  they 
delivered  it  to  the  Bishop  of  Lund's 
legate;  and  they  showed  me  over  the 
doorway  the  heads  of  many  old  women 
whom  they  said  had  been  "left  behind." 
H 


114  The  Sacrilege 

I  do  not  know.  And  there  were  children's 
heads  hanging  from  them.  What  became 
of  the  men  of  the  hall?  It  is  something 
that  I  cannot  remember.  They  bound 
thongs  of  leather  round  my  brows  to 
make  me  tell  of  Father  Peter  and  how 
he  died,  and  again  in  Roskilde,  and  they 
twisted  them.  But  at  last  they  permitted 
me  to  enter  the  church  here,  as  a  server, 
and  I  look  out  on  the  fair  fiord  of  Ros 
kilde  now. 

I  am  very  glad  that  the  story  is  done. 


THE 
STORY   OF  THE   OAR-CAPTAIN 


THE   STORY  OF  THE 
OAR-CAPTAIN 

THIS  is  the  story  of  the  Oar-Captain,  that 
they  used  to  tell  to  harps ;  and  that,  after, 
was  made  a  saga  of.  The  story  is  rough, 
like  the  natures  of  men,  and  full  of  storm 
of  Nature  and  sea,  as  if  a  fury  had  run 
down  the  pages.  But  there  are  soft 
threads  in  its  rough  woof — I  tell  it  just 
as  the  Oar-Captain  told  it. 

The  sun  sank  over  the  right-hand  side 
of  the  ship— red,  while  the  sky  was  cloud 
less.  And  the  light  breeze  fell,  just  as  the 
dusk  came,  and  our  brown  sail  trembled 
for  a  moment,  and  then  sank  back  against 
the  mast.  The  men,  laughing,  leaned  in  a 
row  along  the  bulwarks,  while  my  lord 
paced  up  and  down  on  the  aft-deck. 
The  steersman  pulls  in  his  oar,  the  ship 
swings  idle,  and  soon  the  blue  smoke 
ascends  in  a  straight,  fine  line  through 

117 


118    Story  of  the   Oar-Captain 

the  evening  air  from  the  open  dish  of 
black  charcoal  where  they  cook  at  the 
mast-foot. 

It  is  evening,  and  soft  clothes  are  spread 
about  on  the  deck.  Far  away  the  sea 
stretches,  till  it  fades  into  the  glow  of  the 
almost  dark  sky;  while  on  the  other  side, 
where  no  man  looks,  is  dusk-darkness, 
cold,  abandoned,  the  dead  regions  of  what 
was  morning.  After  a  while,  when  the 
glory  has  quite  faded  out  of  the  sky,  the 
men  murmur  and  slowly  lie  down  on 
their  clothes  talking  for  a  while.  That 
gradually  ceases,  and  we  lie  silent,  while 
there  comes  faint  creaking  of  cordage  as 
the  ship  lazily  swings.  My  lord  has  ceased 
pacing  the  aft-deck.  We  lie  watching  the 
stars  come  out. 

Slowly  they  come,  the  eyes  of  other 
worlds.  Lying  close  under  the  rail  I  see 
a  little  track  of  lights  come  from  far 
away,  till  it  seems  they  become  scared 
and  stop,  and  other  lights  come  out  behind 
them — a  twinkling  row,  till  they  reach  the 
bulwark  over  my  head.  Next  me  a  man 
sighs  in  his  sleep. 

I  lie  thinking  of  the  lands  to  the  south, 


Story  of  the   Oar-Captain    119 

and  of  my  lord.  When  I  turn  my  head 
I  can  still  see  him  in  the  gathering  dark, 
where  he  leans  dim  by  the  black  line  of 
the  steering-oar.  Looking  up  my  soul 
leaves  the  ship,  and  seeming  to  gaze  down 
from  the  stars  I  feel  very  far  away. 
Slowly  they  come,  silent  lights.  I  remem 
ber  old  sagas  and  faces — old  faces 

It  is  morning.  The  fresh  wind  lifts 
the  sail  outward;  the  hair  is  blown  in 
the  men's  faces;  the  water  whispers  and 
chuckles  merrily  under  the  side  of  the  lean 
ing  ship.  The  thin  ropes  creak,  the  shields 
over  the  sides  rattle  and  jerk.  I  and  an 
other  swing  on  the  steering-oar,  and  the 
men  run  along  the  decks  with  glad  faces. 

It  is  afternoon.  The  ship  lies  on  her 
side;  the  flying  water  runs  over  as  it  goes 
by.  Dark  clouds  have  come  out  of  the 
east,  and  are  streaked  from  their  low- 
lying  bank  in  long  streamers  along  the  sky. 
The  mast  bends,  the  bows  shoot  the  spray 
up  into  the  winds,  where  it  is  whirled 
away  before  us.  The  water  hisses;  the 
wind  moans  and  sings;  and  the  ship  is 
full  of  the  rattle  of  the  oars  along  the 
benches. 


120    Story  of  the   Oar-Captain 

It  is  evening.  The  moving  sky  is  as 
black  as  the  water  between  the  foam- 
streaks,  by  which  we  rush;  through  a 
vapour -veiled  hole,  dimly,  the  pale  sun 
is  going  down.  Men  shout  to  each  other 
in  the  dark,  and  the  water  splashes  in 
waves  along  the  benches.  My  lord  gives 
orders  for  the  sail  to  be  rolled  fast  and 
that  all  men  shall  come  off  the  fore- 
deck. 

Morning.  By  the  hazy  light  from  far 
up  in  the  heavens,  I  see  our  bare  mast 
with  the  tangled  bunch  of  ropes  whipping 
forward  from  the  top. 

Broken  oars  swim  in  the  water  in  the 
waist  of  the  ship,  and  from  outside,  heard 
in  the  twilight,  comes  the  sound  of  mer 
maids  singing  I  think,  answered  by  the 
dull  roar  of  the  mermen's  shells.  I  look 
around;  before  me  are  the  men  holding 
to  anything  that  is  firm  on  the  after- 
deck,  where  my  lord  stands,  looking  for 
ward.  They  are  pale,  and  the  glistening 
of  their  clothes  shows  in  the  misty  light, 
that  shows  the  foam  hissing  over  the  side 
of  the  ship. 

So,   all    day  we  crouch,    gnawing    pieces 


Story  of  the   Oar-Captain    121 

of  bran-bread,  and  holding  fast  to  the 
sides  of  the  ship. 

Evening.  The  sun  has  gone  out,  and 
a  roaring  that  sounds  like  the  rushing 
of  pine-trees  falling,  conies  from  the 
dark.  The  shields  are  gone,  and  the 
men  laugh  grimly  thinking  of  death, 
when  the  seas  rush  over  the  flying 
bulwarks. 

It  is  morning  again,  and  the  clouds 
rolling  and  flying  in  jagged  flags  in  the 
wind,  are  broken  at  sunrise,  and  the 
wind  sings  now,  not  roars. 

The  ship  shows,  a  bare-sided,  dripping, 
unfamiliar  thing  beneath  the  morning 
light;  full  of  wreckage  and  ropes,  the  sail 
lying,  and  the  yard  gone,  the  bunch  of 
ropes  at  the  top  of  the  mast.  The  pale 
men  that  have  ceased  to  laugh  now,  untie 
themselves  from  the  bulwarks  and  creep 
stiffly  forward  to  the  food -chest.  The 
sea  rises  in  waves,  but  the  still  stiff 
breeze  keeps  them  down  and  we  ride 
on,  plunging;  our  bare  mast  shakes  in  the 
wind. 

That  is  how,  when  Lord  Uffe  stood  on 
the  seaweed-brown  beach  four  days  later, 


122    Story  of  the   Oar-Captain 

he  was  cried  to  over  the  side  of  a  bare- 
masted  ship  as  it  rowed  round  the  point 
along  the  rocky  shore,  and  asked  the 
name  of  the  country. 

Lord  Uffe  brought  us  up  to  the  hall 
where  his  people  ran  to  cook  meat  for 
us,  and  where  we  sat  gladfully  drinking 
the  warm  ale  by  the  fire.  Then  the 
great  platters  of  meat  came  in  seething, 
and  we  sat  and  ate,  warming  ourselves, 
while  Lord  Uffe  talked  to  my  lord  at 
the  end  of  the  table  —  sitting  by  a  great 
red-haired  man  that  he  ever  glanced  at 
kindly,  but  who  with  thoughtful  eyes  sat 
gazing  as  one  seeing  nothing. 

As  we  sat  there,  when  our  first  hunger 
was  done  and  men  were  beginning  to 
stretch  out  their  legs  under  the  table,  I 
looked  about  the  hall.  And  there  was 
something  that  seemed  strange  about  it. 
For  some  time  gazing,  I  could  not  see ; 
then  with  a  half-afraid  feeling,  a  wonder, 
I  saw  that  everything  was  old  —  the 
benches,  the  arms  rusted  on  the  walls — 
it  was  as  if  men  had  been  dropped  back 
three  centuries.  Even  while  I  was  yet 
wondering  at  this  and  looking  curiously 


Story  of  the   Oar-Captain    123 

at  the  old-patterned  arms  on  the  walls 
— such  as  I  had  seen  in  the  old  halls  we 
had  stopped  at  in  our  sailing,  kept  from 
ancestors  —  the  lord  of  the  place,  Lord 
Uffe  —  a  short,  stout,  strong,  old  man, 
with  kind  face  and  a  beard  to  his  waist 
and  eyes  that  shut  in  his  laughter — rose, 
and  standing  with  his  hand  on  my 
lord's  shoulder,  spoke  to  him  and  to  the 
table  so  that  all  might  hear. 

"  Ye  care  to  know,"  he  said,  smiling, 
"what  country  this  may  be.  Then  I 
will  tell  a  story  to  you  all  —  see  that 
ye  are  comfortable — 

"Four  men's  lifetimes  ago  if  they  were 
old  men  there  was  a  ship  blown  off  the 
coast  while  it  bore  a  boat-load  towards 
the  south,  from  a  burnt  town  in  the 
hard  north ;  searchers  for  new  places. 
And  for  days  a  great  wind  blew  them 
the  same  as  it  has  blown  you,  till,  in 
the  night,  no  moon,  they  fell  upon  this 
place,  the  ship  shocking  onto  the  sands 
and  falling  in  pieces,  and  some  of  the 
men  killed.  They  sat  in  the  hiding  of 
the  rocks  till  the  sunrise,  then  with  the 
strong  wind  blowing  in  their  faces,  they 


124    Story  of  the   Oar-Captain 

found  their  home,  built  it,  and  saved 
some  things  from  out  of  the  ship — they 
were  my  fathers.  A  pleasant  country; 
we  are  content ;  no  ships  ever  come ;  we 
are  alone;  we  mow  our  easily-sown  fields 
while  our  children  grow  about  us ;  we 
cut  timber  in  limitless  forests  —  why 
should  we  leave  it?  The  name  of  the 
place?"  And  he  stood,  his  great  beard 
falling  on  his  chest,  his  eyes  looking 
kind  along  the  board  to  see  if  we 
wanted  anything. 

"We  are  lost  in  the  seas,"  he  said 
again.  "  Whether  far  or  near,  or  north 
or  south,  no  man  knows;  no  ship  ever 
comes;  the  forest  begins  behind  us; 
nothing  that  shows  sign  of  man's  hand 
is  washed  to  the  shore;  we  are  alone, 
lost  and  contented.  Listen  to  the  sound 
of  the  sea;  we  have  never  crossed  it; 
no  man  has  crossed  it  to  us;  we  know 
not  where  it  goes;  or  where  we  are." 

The  old  man  spoke  grandly,  but  his 
kind  eyes  ever  glanced  along  the  table 
to  see  if  we  wanted  anything. 

We  men  drew  long  breaths,  and  I  saw 
my  lord  draw  down  his  brows,  and  tug 


Story  of  the   Oar-Captain    125 

the  fair  hair  over  his  forehead.  Some  of 
us  got  up,  and  began  to  walk  about. 

Then  in  the  midst  of  the  silence  my 
lord  spoke  hesitatingly. 

"We  thank  my  Lord  Uffe  for  his  kind 
ness.  What  can  we  do  —  can  we  sail 
home — and  where?  Still,  for  the  present, 
we  thank  my  Lord  Uffe  for  his  kindness." 

The  old  man,  pulling  his  beard,  stood, 
looking  at  my  lord  for  a  moment;  then, 
a  smile  coming  to  his  lips  and  showing 
in  his  eyes,  he  held  out  his  hand  and 
said,  "Stay." 

It  was  some  days  before  we  got  the 
things  out  of  the  ship  and  the  ship  well 
hauled  up  on  the  beach.  Then  we  looked 
about  for  a  place  for  our  houses;  for  we 
had  decided  to  stay,  at  least  for  a  while. 

The  land  seemed  good;  the  sand,  broken 
with  rocky  points,  stretched  straight 
along  the  bright  sea;  and,  protected  from 
the  sea  -  winds  and  storms  by  a  line  of 
oak  forest  left  standing,  lay  fields  now 
just  green  in  the  spring  -  time.  Beyond 
these  fields,  fenced  off  from  one  another 
by  little  walls  of  stone,  drew  in  the 
forest  again,  the  colour  of  the  light-green 


126    Story  of  the   Oar-Captain 

of  a  curling  wave,  and  as  limitless  as 
the  sea.  In  the  edge  of  the  forest, 
surrounded  by  a  few  of  the  great  trees, 
the  others  being  taken  away,  on  a  little 
rise  in  the  ground,  stood  the  old  wooden 
hall  of  Lord  Uffe,  shaded  by  the  green 
branches,  or  crossed  by  the  patches  of 
sunlight  when  they  waved  —  the  hall,  a 
low  building,  old,  with  many  passages 
inside  and  far-away  little  rooms,  and  the 
one  great  dining  -  chamber ;  built  very 
stoutly.  Around,  in  the  edge  of  the  forest, 
were  little  houses  of  wood  from  which 
the  smoke  curled  lazily  up  in  the  spring 
air,  and  about  which  ran  children  play 
ing  while  their  happy  -  faced  mothers 
watched  from  the  doorways.  The  sky 
was  very  blue,  birds  sang  in  the  trees, 
and  about  the  fields  hopped  little  hares. 

We  decided  to  build  our  hall,  not  a 
large  one,  but  enough  for  us,  farther 
down  the  row  of  fields  in  a  little  point 
of  great  old  trees  that  ran  out  a  little 
way  toward  the  cleared  place.  Here 
with  our  axes  we  hewed  for  many  days, 
cutting  great  timbers  and  raising  them 
upright  along  the  sides  of  our  house- 


Story  of  the   Oar-Captain    127 

floor.  Then  came  dragging  of  logs 
through  the  forest  and  the  laying  them 
one  on  the  other  along  the  timbers  for 
the  walls  of  the  house  and  the  driving 
of  wooden  pins  and  hewing  of  door 
ways. 

All  this  time  we  lived  at  the  hall  of 
Lord  Uffe,  except  some  of  us  who  stayed 
in  the  houses  round. 

I  lived  at  the  hall.  Thus  I  saw  from 
the  beginning,  the  trouble  that  came  to 
us,  and  that  brought  storm  and  madness. 
Here,  lost  from  all  men,  with  the  un 
known  sea  between  us  and  all  things 
but  the  birds  and  woods  and  trees  and 
waters  and  our  little  selves,  was  played  a 
thing  that  was  unchanged  from  the  far 
places  we  had  left,  as  though  we  had 
never  left  them. 

While  the  fields  grew  greener,  and  the 
birds  sang,  and  our  house  was  growing 
nearer  finishing,  while  Lord  Uffe  walked 
in  the  forest  and  our  ship  lay  on  the 
beach  and  our  men  ate  in  the  hall,  my 
lord,  with  his  yellow  hair,  and  his  soft 
harping,  made  love  to  the  daughter  of 
Lord  Uffe's  dead  brother,  the  betrothed 


128    Story  of  the   Oar -Captain 

of  the  friend  of  Lord  Uffe,  the  great 
man  who  had  sat  in  the  hall  silently 
when  we  found  welcome  there. 

It  was  this  way.  One  day,  when  the 
noon  held  all  the  fields  in  stillness  and 
the  little  singing  things  were  silent  in 
the  grass,  I  walked — for  the  day  was  too 
warm  to  work  in  the  mid-day  —  slowly, 
along  one  of  the  forest  paths,  just  shut 
off  from  the  glare  of  the  sun  in  the 
open  by  a  screen  of  trees  whose  leaves 
hung  still  in  the  silence.  Then,  far  before 
me,  I  saw  at  the  end  of  the  path  two 
figures,  and  stopped,  I  do  not  know  why. 
I  saw  who  the  figures  were  —  my  own 
lord  and  Hilda,  the  betrothed  of  his 
friend. 

They  were  coming  toward  me,  but  their 
heads  were  bent  down,  and  they  did 
not  yet  see  me.  I  waited;  though  they 
walked  slowly  it  seemed  but  a  moment 
till  they  were  close  to  me;  they  were 
walking  in  silence.  I  know  not  why,  but 
I  turned  softly  and  went  back,  they  not 
seeing  me.  As  I  went  back  the  silence 
oppressed  me  and  I  wanted  the  sound  of 
the  crickets  in  the  grass. 


Story  of  the   Oar-Captain    129 

When  I  came  into  the  hall  that  night 
for  my  meat,  and  looked  up  at  the  end 
of  the  table  where  she  sat  by  the  great 
man,  I  sat  down  in  the  shadow  and  was 
ashamed,  for  I  saw  it  all. 

Perhaps  it  was  that  we  were  new  and 
strange,  or  perhaps  it  was  my  lord's  harp 
ing,  and  songs,  and  gentle  ways,  that  took 
the  maiden's  liking — she  to  whom  the 
world  was  a  legend.  The  people  about 
her  were  rough;  she,  in  her  simple  dress, 
had  learnt  from  the  delicate  flowers  and 
things  of  the  woods  where  she  had  lived, 
to  find  them  so  perhaps.  But  when  I 
looked  up  from  the  shadow  and  caught 
the  gleam  of  my  lord's  eyes  as  they  met 
hers,  looking  across  the  forms  of  Lord 
Uffe  who  had  welcomed  us,  and  her  be 
trothed,  in  this  old  hall;  where  below, 
sat  our  men  and  Lord  Uffe's  together,  all 
their  hands  hard  from  the  work  on  great 
timbers — I  grew  sick. 

I  have  no  heart  for  this  part  of  the 
tale;  let  me  go  on  to  the  ending. 

For  many  days  I  stayed  by  our  un 
finished  hall  where  the  men  were  busy 
thatching  the  roof  and  making  the  fire- 


130    Story  of  the   Oar-Captain 

place  and  windows;  it  was  almost  done. 
At  last  one  night  I  trod  wearily  up  for 
my  meat  at  Lord  Uffe's,  while  the  air  felt 
heavy  and  the  occasional  thunder  that 
had  rumbled  far  away  all  day,  growled 
in  the  west,  as  the  sun  sank.  I  came 
into  the  hall  when  they  were  all  seated, 
and  without  looking  up  at  the  end  of 
the  table  sat  myself  down  silent,  while 
the  man  next  to  me  growled  like  the 
thunder  as  he  shoved  me  the  meat-dish. 

After  dinner  they  called  on  my  lord 
for  a  song.  He  took  down  his  harp 
from  where  it  hung  on  the  back  of  his 
chair,  and  striking  it  three  times — I  re 
member  all  these  small  things — bent  his 
head  for  a  moment  as  if  listening.  Then 
turning,  and  facing  down  the  hall,  he 
lifts  his  head;  and,  playing  softly,  his 
voice  rings  out  in  a  love  song,  that 
brings  the  tears  into  the  eyes  of  the 
women  by  the  fire  in  a  moment.  As  it 
rises,  it  wakes  even  us  men — what  was 
that?  Only  thunder.  The  song  goes  on. 
It  speaks  of  love  and  despair,  softly,  but 
with  a  strange  tenderness  in  the  notes 
that  makes  each  man  apply  it  to  himself. 


Story  of  the   Oar-Captain    131 

The  sorrowful  notes  droop  through  the 
hall  to  the  running  music  of  the  strings 
— he  turns  toward  the  figure  in  white 
behind  him — What  a  roar  of  thunder! — 
the  song  goes  on. 

It  speaks  of  division  and  of  sorrow,  and 
love  unknown;  it  speaks  of  the  tenderness 
of  love  that  is  hid,  of  longing.  A  crash 
and  volley  of  thunder  just  overhead,  and 
the  hall  is  lit  up  for  a  moment  by  the 
lightning — it  is  gone  and  the  fire  shines 
out  again. 

My  lord  is  standing  facing  her;  he  leans 
forward,  his  eyes  on  hers,  and  plays  softly, 
his  voice  falling  low.  We  bend  forward 
to  listen.  He  is  singing  of  love  and  its 
fulfilment;  he  sings  of  love,  and  the  ten 
derness  of  it.  Slowly  the  words  fall,  his 
head  is  bent  forward  and  his  eyes  gaze 
into  hers.  Slowly  she  rises  from  her 
place,  slowly  she  comes  toward  him,  her 
head  raised,  her  eyes  on  his,  slowly  she 
sinks  at  his  feet — the  notes  fall — low 

Crash  and  roar !  and  a  dying-away  of  the 
tumult  into  a  distant  roll  while  the  hall 
is  lit  up  for  a  moment  by  the  lightning. 
The  light  flickers  on  the  walls,  showing 


132    8tory  of  the   Oar-Captain 

the  still  raised  harp,  the  kneeling  figure, 
the  men  half-risen  from  their  places.  It 
is  gone,  and  the  fire  that  has  died  down 
glows  feebly. 

As  I  awake  from  the  waking  sleep  I 
hear  voices  raised"  angrily,  and  in  the 
dusk  see  two  figures,  one  tall,  risen  by 
the  bench  at  the  end  of  the  table.  Some 
one  throws  a  log  on  the  smouldering 
fire  and  the  sparks  fly  up.  In  a  moment 
it  is  light. 

I  hear  a  voice  shouting,  "Dost  thou 
love  this  man?" 

And  Lord  Uffe's  voice  raised  in  remon 
strance  ;  and  from  the  white  figure  now 
standing  leaning  against  my  lord  comes 
a  low  voice  saying  something  we  cannot 
hear. 

Then  there  is  more  tumult  that  gradu 
ally  thins  down  to  a  single  vt>ice  speak 
ing,  and  Lord  Uffe's  words  are  heard  as 
the  silence  falls.  "Before  thou  cam'st 
we  were  content;  but  thou  hast  brought 
the  noises  of  the  world  with  thee,  and 
broken  peace.  Thou  cam'st  to  us  out  of 
the  storm;  go  back  into  the  storm,  my 
guest!" 


Story  of  the   Oar-Captain    133 

Slowly  my  lord  went  down  the  hall, 
we  behind  him.  Turning  my  head — I  was 
the  only  man  who  turned — I  saw  the 
white  figure  on  its  knees  again  by  the 
bench,  its  head  hidden.  Our  host  stood, 
his  hand  out  towards  us;  away  by  the 
fireplace  a  face  shone  over  a  huge  black 
form  on  whose  hair  the  firelight  played. 
I  wish  I  could  forget  that  face! 

As  we  passed  in  silence  through  the 
door  the  thunder  roared  and  died  away. 

Soon  we  were  at  the  ship  in  the  dark 
ness;  we  shoved  her  off  in  the  darkness; 
we  men  hoisted  the  mended  sail  in  the 
darkness;  we  heard  the  water  begin  to 
sound  under  our  sides,  then — a  faint  roll 
of  thunder  from  far  away,  a  long  flicker 
of  light  across  the  sky.  We  saw  my  lord 
standing  alone  on  the  hind-deck,  the 
beach,  the  lights  of  the  hall — the  light 
ning  gone,  and  we  heard  the  water 
rushing  around  our  bow  in  the  darkness. 

Not  a  drop  of  rain  fell;  the  air  was 
very  still. 

When  the  day  broke  pink  over  the 
far  level  waters,  my  lord  was  leaning  on 
the  rail  yet.  As  the  yellow  light  reached 


134    Story  of  the   Oar-Captain 

over  the  water  till  it  touched  our  ship 
I  saw  his  face,  and  it  surprised  me,  being 
quite  gay.  I  went  up  to  him,  and,  the 
men  gazing  silently  at  us,  spoke  to 
him. 

"  The  men,"  I  said,  "  will  carry  you  home, 

or  east,  but  then "  I  stopped,  for  there 

was  something  in  his  face  that  made  me 
stop. 

"Yes,"  he  said. 

"And  then  we  will  leave  you.  If  you 
wish,  you  can  get  a  new  crew." 

"Ah,"  he  said. 

"I  do  not  know  how  many  days — 
when " 

"Yes,"  he  said. 

I  stood  silent;  in  the  silence  again; 
"Yes,"  he  said,  smiling  to  himself  as  if  in 
fun. 

I  moved  myself  so  as  to  get  a  look  at 
his  face.  There  seemed  a  horror  in  the 
eyes,  and  a  stopping  of  all  hope,  that 
made  me  uncomfortable. 

Waiting  for  a  little  time,  I  said  again: 

"If  we  come  home " 

He  did  not  answer.  I  was  angry  with 
him,  and  stood  one  foot  uncomfortably 


Story  of  the   Oar-Captain    135 

over  the  other  for  a  little  while,  and  then 
went  back  to  the  men. 

"  He  will  answer  only  '  Yes,' "  I  said 
angrily.  The  men  grunted,  and  I  sat 
down,  angry,  yet  not  quite  understand 
ing,  leaving  him  still  smiling. 

All  day  I  sat,  angry,  and  when  evening 
came  and  we  had  eaten,  grumbling,  and 
cursing — all  save  my  lord,  who  had  eaten 
nothing — I  got  up  and  clambered  again 
on  to  the  hind-deck. 

When  I  came  to  him  I  stood,  all  the 
words  having  left  me.  I  seized  my 
courage  hard  and  spoke. 

"When  we  get  back,  if  we  ever  do, 
the  men  will  leave  you." 

I  waited;  he  gave  no  answer.  I  started 
to  speak  again,  but  no  words  would 
come.  I  tried  again.  Then,  with  a  sud 
den  movement  I  leaned  round  on  the 
bulwark  and  saw  his  face.  For  a  moment 
yet  I  stood  impatient;  then  with  a  cry 
of  rage  and  pity  I  seized  his  hand  and 
held  it  a  moment,  then  dropped  it  and 
rushed  back  among  the  men,  and  hid  my 
face  in  a  dark  corner,  and  sat  there  curs 
ing  weakly  in  a  childish  feeling  of  im- 


136    Story  of  the   Oar-Captain 

potency  —  oh,  the  shame ;  and  the  great 
woe  he  carried  in  his  smiling  face ! 

Toward  evening  the  wind  fell,  and  as 
the  sun  went  down  the  water  shone 
smooth,  and  the  light  blazed  in  our 
faces.  The  cool  of  the  dusk  was  a  re 
lief,  and  long  after  the  great  red  moon 
had  risen,  we  lay,  restlessly,  surely  a 
strange  ship -load,  lost  on  the  limitless 
seas. 

When  morning  came  we  pushed  out 
our  oars  and  toiled  regularly,  creakingly, 
over  the  level  water.  The  sun  blistered 
the  wood  of  the  bulwarks  and  burned 
our  faces,  and  we  longed  for  evening. 
So  for  twelve  days;  till  the  yard  was 
crooked,  and  our  faces  the  colour  of 
tanned  skin.  The  men  used  to  groan  at 
the  oars.  On  the  twelfth  day,  midway 
between  sunset  and  dark,  came  a  little 
breeze  over  the  water,  that  made  the 
men  shout.  And  for  two  days  we  went 
unsteadily  eastward  and  northward  with 
the  little  puffs  of  wind. 

All  this  time  we  saw  no  land  and  no 
streak  of  foam  upon  the  sea,  that  was 
the  colour  of  wood-ashes ;  only  brown 


Story  of  the   Oar-Captain    137 

sea -weed  drifting  northwards.  My  lord 
had  become  very  brown,  and  had  a  way 
of  always  turning  toward  the  light,  look 
ing  east  when  the  sun  rose  and  west  when 
it  set. 

Now,  for  some  days  we  went  north 
ward  ;  then  for  more  days  we  went  east, 
till  one  morning,  just  after  sunrise,  we 
saw  land,  black  hills  which  we  had  come 
near  to  during  the  night.  And  for  two 
days  we  coasted  along  the  great  cliffs 
where  the  water  beat  white  at  their 
black  bases.  Then  we  came  to  some 
houses,  then  to  a  curve  and  dying  down 
of  the  cliffs.  Then  a  great  wind  took  us 
and  we  were  blown  in,  and  all  the  rest 
was  storm.  Once  we  drove  past  a  sandy 
desolate  point  of  land  that  was  gone  in 
an  instant;  and  once  the  ship  grew 
almost  full  of  water  which  we  baled 
out  in  the  darkness. 

On  the  second  night,  as  we  were  fly 
ing  through  the  half  -  dusk  —  the  moon 
shone  sometimes — we  heard  a  deep  rush 
ing  before  us  just  a  little  louder  than 
the  sea's  rushing.  In  a  moment  there 
grew  up  in  the  darkness  a  shore  of 


138    Story  of  the   Oar-Captain 

waving  trees — we  were  among  rushes — 
the  ship  high  on  the  ground.  We  were 
splashing  ashore  in  the  dark  and  the 
swishing  wind,  and  we  sat  and  listened 
under  the  tossing,  complaining  trees  till 
daylight. 

Two  days'  travelling  under  darkly-drip 
ping  branches  brought  us  to  a  hall.  It 
looked  familiar — it  was  our  own  hall ! 

We  had  come  home! 

How  quickly  wonders  fade  under  joy, 
though  sorrow  preserves  them  long.  By 
that  evening  we  had  come  to  think  of  it 
as  very  natural. 

Three  days  we  passed  in  eating  and 
drinking,  and  on  the  evening  of  the 
third  one  we  sat  pale  from  our  drinking 
along  the  board.  Outside  the  ship  lay, 
having  been  brought  round  by  those 
sent. 

My  lord  sat  on  a  low  stool  by  the 
corner  of  the  fire.  The  talking  grew 
slack  and  we  yawned,  the  edge  of  our 
home-coming  having  been  ground  down 
by  welcoming.  Some  of  us  rose  to  go 
to  our  sleep. 

Then    my    lord    stirred,    uneasily,    for    a 


Story  of  the   Oar-Captain    139 

moment,  got  up,  walked  slowly  to  the 
end  of  the  long  room,  and  sat  down. 
We  glanced  around  at  the  sound  of  his 
tread  and  then  the  little  talking  ceased, 
for  we  saw  that  he  meant  to  speak. 
After  a  moment  he  spoke. 

"  I  will  go  there  to-morrow,  and  I 
would  know  what  men  would  accom 
pany  me."  His  lips  were  tight  closed 
and  he  was  pale  across  the  forehead. 

No  one  spoke. 

"  Will  no  one  go  ?  "   he  asked  softly. 

After  a  moment,  I  said,  "  Where  ? " 
all  the  men  frowning. 

"To  where  we  have  come  from,  across 
the  water,"  he  answered,  pressing  his 
lips  together  till  he  showed  white  round 
the  mouth. 

The  men  sat,  perfectly  silent. 

He  came  slowly  to  his  feet,  stopped, 
and  then  began  to  speak,  softly  and 
strangely,  with  a  great  kindness. 

"Ye  do  not  ask  it,  but  though  I  believe 
ye  do  not  even  want  it,  I  will  speak  in 
justification.  I  would  tell  ye  a  few  things. 
In  that  far  place  she  had  seen  but  few 
men,  only  woods  and  trees  and  natural 


140    Story  of  the   Oar-Captain 

things.  The  man  to  whom  she  was  be 
trothed  not  against  her  will — I  will  be 
fair  —  was  little  more  than  these  to  her 
in  that  dreamy  place.  Slow  and  dull,  he 
had  nothing  to  answer  in  her  own-taught 
beauty.  When  we  came,  she  did  love 
me,  truly,  but  in  her  kindness,  she  would 
stay  his  wife.  She  had  Freya's  soul.  Her 
father's  brother  liked  me.  Thus  things 
were  when  the  night  came  of  our 
leaving. 

"One  more — I  had  never  asked  her  to 
be  not  true  to  her  betrothed,  so,  I  was 
dreaming,  my  soul  drawn  all  one  way. 

"That  night  when  I  sang  her  the  love- 
song — oh  ye  men  of  my  house,  have  ye 
never  done  wrong?  Are  ye  sure  that  the 
souls  within  ye  would  stand  firm  while 
they  were  pulled  with  mighty  cables? 
Have  ye  never  had  an  evil  thought? 
Have  your  spirits  always  been  level  with 
in  ye?  Can  ye  never  be  mad,  and  rock 
to  the  torment  of  it?  Do  ye  under 
stand? 

"Well,  the  music  went  out  of  my  harp, 
and  tore  me — Are  ye  stone  walls,  that  ye 
would  not  have  shaken  down  like  the 


Story  of  the   Oar-Captain    141 

leaves  of  trees  ?  I  could  have  wailed  like  a 
child  for  its  mother,  or,  like  a  hammer  on 
beams,  crushed  a  man's  head  with  my  hand. 

"Are  ye  more  than  are  men?  Have  ye 
never  done  any  ill?  I  say,  I  stood  there, 
dreaming,  playing;  my  soul  drew  her  to 
me;  I  stood  there  playing  the  old  love- 
song,  in  agony.  Then  there  was  a  noise 
of  voices,  and  we  went  to  the  ship,  and 
were  many  days  coming  home,  being  be 
calmed." 

He  stared  straight  before  him  —  a 
wakening  came  into  his  face  —  he  on 
a  sudden  raised  his  hands  in  the  air, 
and,  the  shaking  fingers  widespread,  called 
through  the  hall  in  a  strange  voice.  "Oh 
great  Gods,  come!" 

We  sat  silent  in  the  lit  hall,  and  the 
call  died  away  into  silence. 

"Shame!"  cried  a  woman's  voice;  "ye 
are  not  men!" 

"We  stirred  not  even  at  this  reproof 
from  a  woman. 

"I  will  go!"  cried  the  voice  again,  and 
one  of  the  women  who  helped  in  the 
cooking  stood  forward  with  her  great 
ladle  held  like  a  sword. 


142    Story  of  the   Oar- Captain 

"Ay,  and  leave  the  ladle  for  the  men 
to  manage!"  cried  a  second,  a  bare-armed, 
laughing  woman,  ranging  herself  by  the 
other  one,  and  turning  a  saucy  face  on 
my  lord. 

"Will  ye  lend  us  your  swords,  stay-at- 
homes?"  called  a  third  from  beside  the 
fire. 

"We  need  not  your  help  to  shove  the 
ship  off  the  beach,"  said  a  young  girl, 
haughtily,  as  she  swept  forward  to  the 
others  and  looked  up  at  my  lord  from 
her  little  height. 

There  was  stillness  in  the  hall,  while 
the  three  women  stood  looking  up  at 
my  lord.  Then  some  of  the  men  got  up, 
and  frowning,  hesitated,  and  then  said 
they  would  go.  Six  of  them.  We  others 
sat  silent.  The  women  fell  laughing 
and  pointing  at  us,  and  the  lights  flared 
merrily. 

The  next  morning  we  watched  the  ship 
hauled  down  the  beach  and  put  out. 
And  when  she  passed  round  the  trees 
going  by  the  shore,  we  lost  her  sud 
denly. 

For     months    we     waited — for    a     year. 


Story  of  the   Oar -Captain    143 

She  did  not  come  back.  Did  they  find 
the  hall  lost  beyond  the  waters?  Did 
my  lord  marry  the  maiden?  Or  were 
they  drowned  or  lost? 

I  an  old  man  write  this  now  in  "justi 
fication,"  as  my  lord  said. 


THE   LAST   VOYAGE 


K 


THE  LAST  VOYAGE 

THE  ceiling  was  broken  through  in  the 
corner  over  our  heads,  and  clean-tongued 
splinters  pointed  downward;  the  big  room 
was  smoky  from  the  roaring  fire,  and  the 
table  was  covered  with  bottles;  around 
sat  some  forty  men.  We  were  in  our 
armour,  except  our  head-pieces,  for  we  had 
ravaged  the  country  round,  and  had  killed 
or  driven  away  all  living  things.  All  but 
one ;  for  the  old  woman  of  the  house  stood 
even  now  grinning  in  the  corner.  Round 
the  walls  were  piled  plate  and  beautiful 
armour,  such  as  we  had  never  seen  be 
fore,  and  there  were  gold  crosses  and  gold 
pots  and  chains;  yet  the  men  grumbled, 
till  at  last  one  threw  his  little  cup 
into  the  fire  and  strode  heavily  to  the 
door.  He  kicked  it  and  it  tumbled  out 
ward  on  one  leathern  hinge.  The  rest 
of  us  looked  lazily  up.  A  brown  expanse 
of  burnt  vinelands,  and  in  the  distance  a 

147 


148         The  Last    Voyage 

broken-roofed  church  and  the  black  walls 
and  chimneys  of  a  few  cottages  that 
looked  ugly  and  lonely  and  pitiful  against 
the  blue  depth  of  the  sky.  The  thought 
came  into  the  minds  of  all  of  us  I  think, 
to  leave  this  brown  path  that  we  had  trod 
free  of  grass,  for  our  ship  lay  only  one  day's 
march  somewhere  westward,  and  the  half 
of  our  number  again  cursed  the  lots  that 
they  had  drawn  as  they  waited;  but  the 
old  woman,  who  always  grinned,  poured 
yellow  wine  into  our  cups  and  took  the 
old  ones  away,  and  we  drank,  and  it 
made  us  courageous,  so  that  we  spent  the 
evening  wrestling  by  the  firelight. 

It  was  just  before  sunrise  that  I  stirred 
sleepily  and  raised  myself  on  my  hands 
and  knees.  In  a  moment  I  heard  clank 
and  clash  coming  from  the  darkness  all 
around  me,  then  silence,  but  my  mind 
saw  grey  things  that  crept  in  near- 
ing  circles.  Ay,  grey  as  sleep,  around 
the  house.  As  I  woke  my  companions 
shaking  them  by  their  sword-belts,  there 
broke  out  on  the  stillness  of  the  night 
a  loon's  cry,  from  beyond  some  bushes 
by  a  narrow  pond.  We  were  lying  out- 


The  Last    Voyage         149 

side  under  the  overhanging  front  roof 
of  the  inn.  We  crept  through  the  door, 
our  swords  in  our  hands,  and  each  man 
hastily  buckled  on  his  armour.  When 
we  were  ready  we  turned.  Before  the 
fire  stood  some  twelve  mail  -  clad  men, 
with  curious  helmets  and  coverings  for 
their  elbows,  and  their  swords  were  long, 
reaching  from  their  shoulders  to  the  floor. 
We  stood  looking  each  other  in  the  face 
for  a  long  time,  then  we  backed  slowly 
to  the  door  and  out  of  it,  still  gazing  at 
them,  into  the  pale  uncertain  light  of  the 
watery  dawn,  leaving  them  standing  there 
in  front  of  the  glowing  embers.  We  stole 
toward  the  narrow  path  in  the  growing 
light,  and  waited  there  in  the  bushes 
for  sound  from  the  house,  our  cross 
bows  strung.  At  last,  as  we  waited  and 
watched,  a  crouching  figure  ran  hastily 
round  the  corner  of  the  house  to  the 
doorway.  After  this  we  waited  for  a 
very  long  time  till  the  east  was  all  gold, 
then  suddenly  a  file  of  men,  in  plate  to 
the  waist,  with  long  bows  in  their  hands, 
stepped  forth  from  the  bushes  on  either 
side  of  the  door. 


150          The  Last    Voyage 

Men  who  had  grown  up  on  these  ravaged 
vinelands,  and  who  had  come  from  no 
where  on  vengeance  they  were;  and  as 
they  grouped  themselves  around  the  corner 
of  the  house  a  sudden  flare  of  red  came 
through  the  doorway,  and  we  could  hear 
the  crackling  of  lit  wood  from  inside.  Then 
there  were  shouts  from  our  men  in  the 
upper  chambers,  and  we  heard  their  steel 
shoes  on  the  stone  stairway.  There  came 
the  clank  of  steel  on  steel,  and  the 
steps  on  the  stairway  ceased.  Now  the 
smoke  came  from  the  windows  in  the 
upper  chamber,  and  in  a  moment  we 
heard  a  great  rush  across  the  upper  floor 
— a  rush  that  ended  in  falling  bodies,  and 
yells,  and  the  breaking  of  wood,  and  three 
of  our  men  broke  through  the  doorway. 
In  a  moment  they  were  down,  each  man 
with  a  goose-shaft  in  him.  The  bowmen 
closed  in  the  doorway,  and  the  house 
was  filled  with  a  roaring  as  of  bulls,  and 
the  clanking  as  of  a  thousand  anvils  in 
caves;  and  the  flames  poured  from  the 
chimney.  Now  came  the  old  woman  who 
always  grinned,  rushing  out  through  the 
doorway,  but  as  she  came,  one  of  the 


men-at-arms  who  stood  behind  the  others 
raised  his  bow,  and  she  fell  kicking  over  the 
pot-helm  of  one  of  our  men.  Last,  came 
six  more  of  our  men,  their  clothes  singed 
off  outside  their  armour,  and  their  faces 
deep  red.  They  came  through  the  door  side 
ways,  their  sweaty  swords  turning  in  their 
hands  as  they  struck,  but  in  a  moment 
they  fell  also,  two  by  two;  and  then  the 
tumult  within  the  house  died  down,  but 
the  flames  roared  through  the  crumbling 
rafters,  and  the  burning  wisps  of  thatch 
lit  up  the  distant  poplar  tops  where  the 
wide  road  curved  in  the  distance.  So 
we  crept  away  over  the  burnt  fields, 
crouching  in  ditches,  with  our  swords 
drawn;  we  had  no  water  all  day,  but 
we  passed  many  cottages  where  no  one 
came  to  the  doors  to  stare  at  us  nor 
smoke  rose  from  the  chimneys,  and  there 
was  no  waving  of  yellow  grain  on  the 
hill-tops.  We  passed  the  bones  of  a  horse, 
and  after,  part  of  the  armour  of  a  man — 
rough  armour — and  as  the  sun  sank  we 
passed  a  woman's  head  -  covering  lying 
dirty  by  the  road.  It  was  after  the  dusk, 
which  comes  stealing  in  these  countries, 


and  blinds  you  from  behind,  sudden  and 
soft,  that  we  smelt  the  sea,  and  we 
stumbled  forward  hastily  over  a  charred 
hillside.  The  ground  grew  softer  as  we 
descended,  though  now  we  could  see 
nothing.  Soon  we  were  on  level,  and 
our  feet  sunk  in  the  sand,  and  we  heard 
a  rustle  and  a  whispering  just  before  us. 
We  ran  forward  and  waded  to  our 
waists  in  the  unseen  water.  Ah!  'twas 
good.  Then  we  crept  back  to  the  hillside 
again,  where  we  lay  until  morning  in  a 
hollow,  covered  with  dead  leaves;  and  in 
the  morning  we  were  awakened  before 
the  sunrise,  by  the  strong  salt  wind  in  our 
faces,  and  the  lashing  of  what  last  night 
had  been  dainty  with  playfulness.  The 
beach  was  brown  with  seaweed  cast  up, 
and  the  spume  of  the  light  waves  that 
broke  on  the  shore  retreated  in  stream 
ers  and  circles  far  out  from  the  land 
again.  The  keen  wind  whistled  on  the 
edges  of  our  armour  and  sang  round 
us,  and  we  turned  our  faces  from 
it,  and  it  blew  our  long  hair  into  our 
eyes,  stinging  us.  Now,  we  knew  that 
the  ship  lay  somewhat  to  the  north  of 


The  Last    Voyage         153 

us,  for  our  lord  had  said  that  she  should 
not  pass  a  certain  great  rock,  round  whose 
top  many  gulls  circled,  but  stay  to  the 
northward;  so  we  tramped  the  heavy 
sands  the  gathering  wind  at  our  backs, 
and  we  stumbled  over  the  piles  of  slippery 
seaweed  and  passed  round  the  promontory, 
where  was  the  Gull  Rock.  So  it  came 
to  late  in  the  afternoon  and  we  were 
very  weary,  having  had  no  meat  or  drink. 
Yet  we  kept  on  in  silence,  bending  as  we 
pulled  our  heavy  feet  from  the  sucking 
sand-holes.  The  spume  blew  in  our  faces 
now  when  the  waves  broke;  the  beach 
was  narrow,  and  to  our  right  were  rocks 
which  rose  up  straight  into  the  air.  So, 
as  I  say,  it  came  to  late  in  the  after 
noon.  We  were  walking,  each  man  in  the 
other's  footsteps,  and  I,  being  the  largest 
and  having  the  largest  feet,  went  first. 
Suddenly  I  heard  a  sharp  sound  from  one 
of  the  men  in  the  line,  and  turning,  I  saw 
that  the  last  man  of  us  was  on  his  hands 
and  knees  in  the  sand,  with  his  head 
lowered.  I  ran  to  him.  Sticking  from  the 
side  of  his  back  was  a  great  goose-shaft, 
the  feather  and  some  three  inches  of  the 


154          The  Last    Voyage 

wood  showing;  and  when  I  raised  him  till 
he  came  to  his  knees,  I  saw  the  point 
coming  out  at  his  armpit,  for  he  wore  no 
back-plate.  We  laid  him  on  his  side  under 
the  rocks  and  waited  till  he  died.  It  was 
not  long;  he  rolled  himself  as  I  have  seen 
an  acrobat  do,  talking  hastily  of  small 
affairs  of  our  old  hall.  So  we  left  him 
on  the  sand  and  tramped  on  under  the 
rocks.  We  turned  a  point  where  the 
beach  ran  out  a  little  and  the  great 
waves  reared  themselves  like  angry  clouds, 
on  end,  and  then  another  man  fell  with 
a  sharp  sound  as  of  the  bird  who  pecks 
on  the  side  of  trees.  It  was  a  cross-bow 
bolt  that  had  hit  him  in  the  side  of  the 
head.  Even  as  we  were  turning  from  him 
the  man  next  to  me  gave  a  sharp  cry 
and  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  and 
pointing  upwards  to  the  heights  above, 
spoke  in  a  trembling  voice,  "They  have 
found  us."  He  had  a  long  arrow  shot 
through  his  right  forearm  just  above 
the  wrist,  where  there  was  a  space  be 
tween  his  leather  glove  and  the  sleeve  of 
his  chain-shirt.  Then  we  went  on,  with 
him  cursing  and  groaning  and  he  pulled 


The  Last    Voyage         155 

off  his  glove  and  emptied  the  blood 
on  the  sand,  and  it  dripped  from  his 
fingers  as  he  plodded  along  leaning  on 
my  shoulder.  Then  another  man  fell, 
this  time  quite  dead,  shot  between  back 
and  breastplate,  for  he  had  no  chain-shirt. 
Then  the  four  of  us,  one  behind  the  other 
hurried  cursing  along  the  narrow  beach, 
catching  occasional  glimpses  as  we  glanced 
upward,  of  brown  and  grey  figures  run 
ning,  against  the  torn  clouds  of  the  moving 
sky.  Soon  another  man  fell,  shot  through 
the  leg  and  not  able  to  walk.  There  was 
no  carrying  him,  and  we  could  not  leave 
him  there,  for  there  is  torture  for  the 
sacking  of  churches  and  burning  of 
towns  and  the  razing  of  homesteads;  so 
we  told  him  this;  and  he  asked  us  to  lift 
him  and  bring  him  and  put  him  in  the 
edge  of  the  sea  where  the  white  foam 
would  break  over  him;  and  we  did  so 
and  drew  back  and  stood  in  silence.  In 
a  moment  he  turned  to  us,  and  with  a 
word — "  Farewell "  ! — he  drew  his  dagger, 
and  as  the  green  of  the  surf  curved  over 
him  I  saw  it  go  under  his  shoulder  that 
he  had  bared,  and  when  the  green  of 


156          The  Last    Voyage 

the  wave  had  changed  to  the  retreating, 
and  whispering  spume  again,  there  was 
only  something  dark  in  the  wash  of  the 
water.  Then  we  three  others  left  that 
place  and  staggered  on  over  the  suck 
ing  sands.  There  was  a  headland  before 
us,  from  which  great  fragments  of  rock 
had  fallen  and  blocked  the  beach,  and 
we  could  hear  the  sea  dashing  and 
roaring  and  moaning  among  the  hollows, 
and  see  the  great  waves  strike  and  leap 
up  and  scatter  in  sunlit  spray.  When  we 
saw  this  bar  across  our  path  our  hopes 
sank  low,  and  we  hurried  that  we  might 
die  like  men  or  perchance  get  over  it, 
and  ever  as  we  followed  the  curve  of 
the  beach  the  sputter  of  cross-bow  bolts 
came  from  the  sand  behind  us,  and 
twice  long  arrows  whizzed  from  my 
breastplate  and  glittered  into  the  sea. 
At  last  we  came  to  the  rocks.  I  went 
first,  climbing,  my  sword  in  my  hand  as 
a  staff.  We  fell  over  the  great  blocks 
of  dripping  black,  and  we  slimed  our 
hands  and  armour  on  the  seaweed  that 
lifted  with  every  wave;  our  clothes  were 
heavy  with  water,  and  the  wounded 


The  Last    Voyage         157 

man  who  leant  on  my  shoulder  groaned 
as  I  hoisted  him  up  and  down.  At  last 
we  gained  the  top  of  the  largest  rock, 
the  outermost  black  fragment  on  which 
the  great  waves  rent  themselves.  I 
knew  we  must  not  linger,  and  sliding 
down  the  side  with  my  other  companion, 
I  turned  for  the  wounded  man,  but  he 
sat  upon  the  rock  his  face  drawn  all 
sideways  with  pain,  for  he  had  raised  his 
helmet  for  breath,  and  there  was  a  cross 
bow  bolt  sticking  firmly  out  from  one  of 
his  eyes.  One  glance  was  all ;  then  the 
world  was  a  green  fairyland  with  rushing 
music  and  the  noise  of  mighty  crowds; 
then  a  soft  rolling  as  in  tons  of  fleece, 
and  then  the  air  again,  and  sunlight. 

The  rock  was  bare.  We  staggered  up, 
and  crawling  over  stones  like  children 
before  they  have  learned  to  walk,  came 
at  last  to  the  sands  again,  the  seaweed 
hanging  from  our  shoulders  and  a 
weight  as  of  leaden  anchors  driving  us 
down. 

We  pressed  the  water  from  our  eyes 
and  turned  and  looked  at  each  other, 
and  then  turned  to  the  beach  again ;  and 


158         The  Last    Voyage 

gave  a  great  shout,  for  our  ship  lay  high 
on  the  sand,  and  we  could  see  the  heads 
of  our  men  over  the  bulwark  already 
watching  us;  then  an  arm  waved,  and 
down  the  gale  came  a  fine  sound  of 
welcome  in  our  own  language.  Heavy 
as  we  were  we  could  not  run,  but  we 
stumbled  forward  as  an  old  horse  to 
stable,  and  after  we  had  crossed  the  beach, 
without  a  sound  my  companion  fell 
against  me,  and  when  I  held  him  from 
me  and  held  him  up,  and  saw  the  goose- 
shaft  through  his  neck,  I  dropped  him 
on  the  sands,  and,  cursing  as  I  hobbled, 
broke  into  a  shambling  trot,  using  my 
sword  as  I  ran.  The  arrows  struck 
against  my  backplate  as  I  bent  over,  but 
I  had  no  time  to  look  above,  and  the 
cross-bow  bolts  whizzed  and  volleyed  past 
my  ears,  and  sang,  but  I  came  to  the  ship 
at  last  and  was  lifted  in,  for  I  could 
not  climb  myself,  and  there  I  fell  down 
between  two  of  the  rowers'  benches  and 
hid  my  face  in  my  hands,  while  the 
arrows  sang  over  us  from  the  cliffs  and 
the  men  looked  up  wondering  as  they 
crouched  inside  the  bulwarks. 


The  Last    Voyage         159 

But  soon  they  came  and  whispered  to 
me  for  news  of  the  expedition,  and  when 
I  told  them  that  of  our  lord  and  his  forty 
men  I  only  would  stand  before  them, 
they  groaned  as  men  who  have  no  to 
morrow  and  who  know  not  what  to  do. 
This  could  not  go  on.  The  bow  of  the 
ship  was  feathered  with  arrows  and  they 
began  to  strike  into  the  benches  and  the 
after-deck. 

"Can  we  not  shove  off?"  I  asked. 

"Look  at  the  sea,"  answered  the  oar- 
captain  pointing;  and  as  he  pointed,  his 
hand  was  broken  by  a  cross-bow  bolt.  "I 
shall  never  hold  oar  again,"  he  said.  No 
more. 

While  they  were  binding  his  hand,  I 
crept  to  the  bulwark,  and  raising  a  shield 
between  my  head  and  the  cliffs,  looked 
past  the  stern  of  the  ship  at  the  white 
waters  that  reached  for  us,  and  the  brown 
arms  that  opened  to  us,  and  I  thought  of 
the  suffocation  of  the  sea  and  of  its  indif 
ference  in  its  anger,  and  of  its  beautiful 
white  carelessness,  as  I  went  down — down 
— down — to  the  bottom-most  seaweeds, 
where  the  eyeless  cold  things  crawl. 


160         The  Last    Voyage 

I  was  very  weak;  now  they  brought 
me  meat  and  strong,  flame-coloured  water 
to  drink;  and  the  meat  did  me  much  good, 
but  the  flame-coloured  water  sent  me  to 
sleep  under  one  of  the  forward  benches, 
out  of  the  arrows'  flight.  And  when  I 
waked  a  new  dawn  was  breaking,  and  I 
heard  the  shouting  of  men  outside  the 
ship,  the  shouting  of  men  in  the  language 
of  those  countries;  and  I  lifted  my  sick 
head  and  gazed  at  them,  but  they  curved 
and  numbered  and  unnumbered  them 
selves,  till  at  last  I  heard  in  my  brain 
a  twanging  of  bows,  and  looking  up 
ward  to  the  fore  -  deck,  I  saw  our  few 
men  gathered  there,  crouching,  and  sending 
their  arrows  fast.  The  sea  had  not  gone 
down,  but  the  wind  did  not  whistle,  and 
in  the  west  the  clouds  looked  like  heavy 
rain  and  thunder.  As  the  mist  that  is 
over  the  sea-beach  in  those  countries  in 
the  morning  cleared  off,  I  looked  again, 
and  I  found  that  the  men  who  dis 
puted  with  us  from  the  beach  were 
few,  they  being  but  six  knights  in  half- 
armour.  Now,  lying  and  watching,  for 
I  felt  that  I  could  do  nothing  till  the 


The  Last    Voyage         161 

world  was  level  again,  I  saw  the  fifteen 
of  our  men  jump  from  the  fore-deck  at 
a  word  from  the  oar-captain,  and  thrust 
ing  the  long  oars  over  the  sides,  strain 
on  them  in  the  sand  as  each  wave  came 
in,  and  as  they  strained  upon  them  the 
ship  would  lift  and  glide  out  more,  and 
faster;  till  at  last  we  were  quite  afloat 
and  the  great  waves  took  us,  and  turned 
us  about,  like  a  piece  of  bark.  Then  the 
men  fell  into  their  places  and  we  headed 
the  white  seas,  the  half-armed  men  on 
the  beach  riding  knee  -  high  on  their 
horses  into  the  foam,  and  calling  curses 
at  us.  So,  after  weary  rowing,  and  every 
man  of  us  wet  as  the  sea,  we  came  out 
of  that  bay  and  rode  the  great  smooth 
waves  that  had  been  white  the  day 
before. 

Well,  we  kept  far  from  the  land,  only 
seeing,  one  dusk,  a  white  cliff  on  our 
right  from  a  distance ;  then  the  gale 
took  us  again  and  drove  us  westward 
and  then  northward,  till  the  men  would 
throw  down  their  oars  and  cry  out  to 
the  gods  of  the  sea,  to  say  which  one  of 
them  should  be  sacrificed  to  their  hate. 
L 


izi          The  Last    Voyage 

We  were  half  mad  with  the  drink  we  had 
in  the  ship  —  for  we  had  no  beer — and 
as  we  lurched  and  swayed  in  the  depth 
beween  two  seas,  or  as  we  climbed  up 
sideways  and  balanced  for  a  moment 
while  the  foam  flew  and  then  surged 
down  with  sick  motion,  the  men  would 
trail  their  oars  on  the  water  and  sink 
their  heads  on  the  handles.  So,  for  many 
days  we  were  driven  as  the  wizards  drive 
the  storm-ships  across  the  face  of  the 
icy  moon,  as  the  waves  kiss  her  wet  sides 
and  the  clouds  break  over  her.  So  north 
ward  we  went,  till  the  cold  struck  into 
our  bones  and  we  ate  fried  fat  like  the 
savages  of  Finland;  and  we  passed  great 
ice-fields  sometimes,  at  night,  when  the 
moon  shone  on  them  for  miles  and  gave 
them  smoothness  which  the  sun  took  all 
away  again,  and  made  them  grey  and 
rugged  and  small. 

Still  we  went  north ;  our  water  was 
almost  gone  and  we  had  only  the  devil's 
drinks,  and  the  wet  bread  and  fish.  Now, 
when  we  passed  the  ice-fields  the  oar- 
captain  would  order  us  to  fasten  to 
them,  and  we  would  bring  into  the  ship 


The  Last    Voyage         163 

great  chunks  of  ice  and  melt  them  in 
the  cauldron  by  the  mast -foot.  But 
there  came  a  time  when  for  three  days 
we  saw  no  ice  and  the  men's  tongues 
were  stiff  for  thirst.  Their  eyes  looked 
cruel  and  sad.  Thus,  one  night,  as  I 
lay  at  my  place  under  the  forward  seat, 
wrapped  in  a  bear -skin,  I  saw  the  black 
figure  of  a  man  on  the  rail  at  the  other 
side  of  the  ship.  He  crept  to  where  the 
rail  ends  in  the  lift  of  the  fore -deck. 
Then,  dropping  to  the  bench  under  which 
I  lay,  he  crawled  to  the  cauldron  where 
a  little  water  was  left,  and  putting  in 
his  hand  he  broke  off,  little  by  little, 
pieces,  until  I  could  see  by  the  long  time 
that  his  hand  rested  in  the  cauldron 
that  there  was  no  more  there.  Then  I 
reached  out  and  grasped  him  by  the 
leg  and  pulling  him  off  the  bench  I 
rolled  myself  about  him  and  called  out 
for  the  oar -captain.  The  oar -captain 
came  and  all  the  men  came  after  and 
they  lit  a  light,  and  I  lay  off  him,  and 
we  saw  his  face;  and  the  oar -captain 
said — and  to  every  man  it  seemed  just — 
"  You  have  stolen  the  last  of  our 


164          The  Last    Voyage 

water,  more  than  your  share,  therefore 
you  shall  go  to  join  your  comrades  under 
the  sea ;  when  you  are  ready." 

The  man  drew  himself  up  and  walked 
the  length  of  the  ship  stepping  from 
bench  to  bench,  we  all  following,  our 
feet  making  a  clatter  as  we  went.  He 
came  to  the  upper- deck  and  climbed  up, 
and  went  to  the  rail  and  stood  there 
and  looked  on  the  moveless  sea  under 
the  moonlight. 

"  Are  you  ready  ? "  asked  the  oar- 
captain. 

"  Get  out  your  oars,"  answered  the  man. 

Some  half  of  the  men  went  to  their 
places  and  shoved  the  oars  out. 

"When  I  go,  row!"  he  said,  in  a  loud 
voice. 

Then,  climbing  across  the  bulwark,  he 
stood  at  the  edge  a  moment  his  hands 
on  his  hips,  then  suddenly  he  raised  his 
clenched  fists  in  the  air,  and  in  perfect 
silence  met  the  sea.  As  we  rowed  away, 
we  could  see  his  dark  head  in  the  moon 
light  as  he  swam,  and  until  we  had 
shifted  the  position  of  the  ship  many 
times  we  could  not  lose  it,  as  the  men 


The  Last    Voyage         165 

rowed  on,  the  oars  creaking,  and  the 
indifferent  moonlight  silvering  their  slow 
dips. 

We  are  bound  in  by  the  ice,  and  the 
ship  lies  high  in  the  bow,  white,  like  a 
lord's  tomb  in  the  snow.  It  has  been 
snowing  all  day,  and  the  oar-captain 
makes  us  tramp  one  after  the  other 
round  the  half-buried  ship  till  we  can 
walk  no  more,  when  we  sleep  in  the 
skins  under  the  fore-deck  till  a  comrade 
shakes  us,  and  we  groan  and  rouse  and 
walk  again.  The  dull  sky  has  turned 
to  the  colour  of  ashes.  Sometimes  the 
air  lifts  for  a  moment  into  a  slight 
wind  that  sends  the  frost -lace  scurrying 
over  the  ice -blocks,  and  then  falls  still 
again.  Our  feet  leave  great  tracks;  we 
can  hardly  see  through  the  white  drift, 
we  are  silent  in  the  wonderful  white 
feathers  .  .  .  and  the  silence ! 

Lars  puffs  near  me,  swinging  his  arms. 
The  Icelander  is  staring  out  into  the 
storm,  with  his  hands  thrust  into  his 
belt.  When  at  last  we  rest  in  our 
furs,  we  are  huddled,  leaning,  against 


166 

one  another  for  warmth.  We  cannot 
see  the  sun-set;  only  a  dying-out  of  the 
pale  half-light  of  the  snow-drift.  The 
men  grow  superstitious,  and  begin  to 
talk  of  robbing  churches,  and  making  no 
restitution  to  the  widows  of  killed  men ; 
and  they  mutter  about  old  days — talking 
crossly  of  things  we  have  long  forgotten. 

On  the  third  night,  Kai,  a  good  man, 
died;  on  the  fourth  night  three  other 
men,  on  the  fifth  night,  none;  on  the 
sixth  day  we  had  eaten  the  last  of  our 
fish,  and  Rudolf  of  Schleswig  went  out  into 
the  mist  with  his  cross-bow  to  see  if  he 
could  find  anything.  So,  we  lost  him,  for 
though  he  was  a  very  strong  man  he 
never  came  back.  It  was  on  this  same 
day  that  one  of  the  men,  Hans,  a  man 
from  the  south  countries,  little  liked, 
went  mad,  and  became  a  child  again, 
till  he  wandered  off  and  I  think  killed 
himself  by  a  fall  from  a  great  ice-block, 
for  we  saw  his  black  figure  there,  and 
then  we  heard  a  sound  as  of  something 
striking  on  the  ice;  then  more  men  died, 
I  do  not  know,  until  old  Ole,  the  oar- 


The  Last    Voyage         167 

captain,  and  I  only  were  left  strong.  The 
rest  ate  snow  and  wandered  off  cursing 
the  sacking  of  churches  or  prattling  non 
sense  of  house  affairs ;  sometimes  they 
would  come  back,  but  I  do  not  know  if 
I  spoke  to  them,  for  they  were  very  dim. 

It  was  some  time  in  the  light,  when, 
after  sitting  against  the  side  of  the  ship 
for  a  few  moments  I  got  up  to  walk 
again,  that  I  saw  come  hopping  toward 
me  over  the  snow  a  white  rabbit  with 
white  eyes. 

He  hops  almost  to  my  feet  and  then 
jumps  into  the  ship;  then  comes  a  snow 
ball  rolling  itself,  of  the  height  of  a  small 
man,  and  when  it  comes  just  before  me 
it  breaks  into  smoke  and  I  cannot  see 
through  the  smoke  for  a  moment. 

Music — light  music,  daintily,  faintly  play 
ing.  ...  It  comes  from  far  away  ...  it 
is  just  over  my  head  .  .  .  then  it  tinkles, 
trills,  breaks,  and  jingles,  and  falls  down 
into  the  inside  of  my  head  making  dark 
ness.  Now  comes  a  long  waste  of  clouds 
over  the  snow-fields,  and  the  ship  seems 
to  rise  to  them  as  they  billow  under  her 
bows, 


168          The  Last    Voyage 

They  come,  innumerable  long  fat  white 
clouds;  clouds  of  no  shape;  clouds  that  I 
hate. 

I  awake ;  I  am  leaning  against  the  side 
of  the  ship;  I  stagger;  we  are  tramping 
on  the  old  path.  A  fine  snow  sifts  down 
into  my  neck;  my  skin  is  so  hot  and  my 
bones  are  so  cold.  There  is  no  sky,  only 
something  that  moves  above  there.  Then, 
as  I  turn  to  the  stern  of  the  ship,  I  seem 
to  hear  in  the  distance  the  sound  of  great 
drinking,  and  the  echoing  of  the  warm 
beer -tankards  as  they  strike  in  the  air, 
and  there  comes  a  small  and  weak  voice 
beyond  me  neither  above  nor  below: 

"I  am  Odin,  the  thunder  -  holder,  and 
I  speak  to  you  greeting,  thus,  passing 
on." 

And  again  the  voice  comes  as  I  lean 
against  the  ship  with  my  arms  outspread. 

"I  am  Thor,  of  the  hammer;  hail  to 
you,  man,  passing  on." 

The  sounds  of  the  mirth  of  the  gods 
die  down.  Then  a  voice  speaks  deeply, 
with  no  ringing  in  it  as  was  in  the  voice 
of  Thor,  and  I  do  not  understand.  The 
snow  comes  driving  into  my  eyes,  and  the 


ship  seems  to  lean  toward  me,  and   then 
away  again,  then  all  is  still. 

The  snow  comes  into  my  eyes  again, 
and  I  hear  faint  music  as  of  churches 
and  sweet  voices  singing,  and  it  seems  to 
me  when  I  can  see  again  that  there  are 
dim  ships  before  me ;  ships  whose  names 
only  I  have  learnt  from  scanty  books 
no  more;  and  all  those  gods  come  danc 
ing  toward  me;  then  the  music  breaks, 
and  there  is  great  cracking  of  the  ice,  and 
I  fall  down.  There  is  no  voice  of  Chris 
tian  God,  for  I  have  sacked  his  churches. 
The  snow  is  in  my  eyes,  and  I  am  mad. 
I  lean  my  head  against  the  ship.  There 
is  no  warmth,  and  I  am  afraid,  alone. 


THE  END. 


M 


PRINTED  BY  W.   H.   WHITE   AND  CO.    LTD. 
EDINBURGH   RIVERSIDE  PRESS. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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